Gb Vkfckxjskhf ;isdujeidhfiLAdH FIEKJFif Eihfow Can't Write Anything Ielhkdnfoia HGEJDFI J Iejfei Can't

but... i can't write anymore

a feeling: “nothing lost but something missing”

my throat tastes of rust and i'm drunk on my tears

my cries dance on the rooftop and i'm a high tide on this silent night

there is a rustling inside of me that doesn't stop

and sometimes it ends up as an aching a yearning for an unknown

this skin keeps on burning and i’m still hurting

but i don’t why

(eusie.)

Let’s put it like this

a.k.a. I changed ... a couple of times

Your presence can be heard in every shut of the eyes and in every nightmare turned into screaming out of beds while sweating like there had been a storm that poured down on our naked skins on every morning in the month of December. The afternoon radios that sing the saddest of lyrics are snowflakes in our noses melted into small amount of water that tickle our spines — they are like you. You numb the tears out our of hearts and hold our cells and wrap us in ice, not to slowly constrain the happiness hiding in our bones to conquer our veins, but to carve us into like you, to become sadder and colder, and to become a blizzard.

(eusie.)

I can’t believe...

Half smiles broken wings I am out of feathers When will I ever be whole?

Deafening silence sunken eyes It is not comforting It is not pleasant Shaking voices heavy sighs Should I just let go? Should I just stop breathing? Oh, let me scream let me cry I wonder Why am I still alive?

(eusie.)

LEE KNOW for BEAUTY+

ˌdedəˈkāSH(ə)n/

There are tears buried in between these sheets, ones that kept us awake with deep cut hearts. There are tinges, hidden from plain sight, ones that came from our blood stained fingertips. There are marks and tiny scrapes across these papers, ones that were caused by the scars of our skin.

But there are giggles running around through each space. There are whispers of hopefulness in each page. There is love felt by each letter dripped in nightly ink.

This is a collection of shards from our war souls. This is a recollection of the strands of what we fought for.

There is a piece of us in this. This is us. This is for us.

— “Cheers to ourselves”, The Researchers

(eusie.)

“Sometimes I wonder / if I’m really the best / person for this body.”

— — John Elizabeth Stintzi, from “Salutations From the Storm,” Junebat

two hearts tiptoeing across shreds of an old vase of red roses

eles (eusie.)

The next morning, they meander along the coastal trail for an hour or so. When the sun begins to rise, they stop to look over the water. [He] stands by the edge of the cliff, facing the sea. He — finally feeling the fatigue of the miles and the hours — is sitting with his back against a large rock.

The sunrise is a little more than a finger-smudge of pale blue, glimmering in the dark sky, but then it slowly brightens into a wide beacon of gold, like a snitch hovering on the horizon. And at last, it casts the first rays of brilliant light over the waves, outlining [him] sharply against the sky.

He stares at [his] silhouette for a long time, and it's only when [he] turns [his] head to gaze into the sun that he realises he's trying to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with [him].

It's a terrifying feeling. It's easy to lust after someone, to match their face to a missed heartbeat or a sharp intake of breath. It's easy to say, I want them because of the colour of their eyes, the lines of their body.

It's something else entirely to say, I want them because of the way they rest their hands on a steering wheel, the way they gaze out a window, the way they say my name.

— eleventy7, “Running on Air” (An excerpt)

pieces by pieces, pt. 1

i kiss your name to the stars / and i write your eyes on my skin / i wish i couldn’t smell your lips every time they curl into a smile / because even if i can’t taste your love, these feelings just wouldn’t sink / i end up with a pair of dead lungs from breathing too much of you / but too much is never enough, and so i desire more / if i need to be brutally honest, i hereby confess / there isn’t anything in this world i’d rather take in but the endless melody of the pain of you / you’re way too out of reach, these hands of mine are knocked out / and there’s no need to call out your name, you wouldn’t hear me anyway / but still, when i close my eyes, it feels like you’re close / echoing how you love me even if you don’t / your shadow is my moon on a dusky night / along with the dancing smoke coming from your cigarette kissed lips / but your walls are tremendously and sensibly high / will i ever see the sunrise from your eyes?

(eusie.)