a walk by S.W. It wasn’t chasing moments or echoing a thing that had passed, but wandering through life. Every footstep, a precious, precious sound. We were somewhere between the middle and the end. The air was crisp and cold. You exhaled
Oh but could you please just show me a little more poetry?⁠ Some magic bottled in-between the ink and curving⁠ widely across the pages of the mind.⁠ Any mind, anywhere transfixed into time⁠ and the way it can move so fast ⁠ when there’s no worr
my map by S.W. She was the one that always knew. Despite all that movement we were headed not into the clouds, but towards the stars all the way.
French vanilla sky by S.W. ⁠ ⁠ The sky turned into something more ⁠ than just above⁠ once my neck kept my eyes ⁠ towards a more realistic finale. ⁠ ⁠ One and one is three ⁠ and you and yes are oui, ⁠ but can you imagine a time ⁠ when this wasn’
Far by S.W. ⁠ ⁠ Following her stare as if knotted by string, ⁠ the evening took us away with colors, ⁠ thinking, ⁠ dreading a morning to come.⁠ ⁠ She was untouchable again.⁠ ⁠ Just a breath away, ⁠ yet miles distant from any words that would be said,
the roots by S.W. Tempted and nearing a clearing of sorts, ⁠ The shade of leaves had a crisp, unlike before. ⁠ A tender, bright crunch supported under every step. Photo credit: @chans_moments
Roots by S.W.⁠ ⁠ Tempted and nearing a clearing of sorts, ⁠ The shade of leaves had a crisp, unlike before. ⁠ A tender, bright crunch supported under every step. ⁠ ⁠ “How are we here again?” ⁠ She asked the trees. ⁠ Everchanging yet never
A place to store things by S.W. Tired wood was creaking, while the sun tried its best to warm a smile. I had wanted to return here, tried my best to get back here, yet my mind forgot all the steps in between. We will never come back, for the rive
I was never alone yet my mind tried its best to seduce the heart. The hands were meant to hold it all, a place for things to go when I was no longer able to contain the idea of you. A place to store things by S.W. Photo credit: Unknown
Tired wood was creaking, as the sun tried its best to warm a smile. I had wanted to return here, tried my best to get back here yet my mind forgot all the steps inbetween. a place to put things by S.W. photo credit: @balazs_garda
a way home by S.W. You are not the home I sought to form The pulled blinds and empty window sill. Plants were never watered, and the cool breeze that streamed in from the upstairs attic is a chilling fear. It seems I have traveled so far, burie
It seems I have traveled so far, buried myself so deeply to be left with dirty hands. Caked in mud, left alive in a dream state, I am needing something tangible now. The memories of what I thought to be was just a fight between my fear and brave
I have run away into the depths of my mind. Because everything, everywhere, is a deep, darkened state of needing to be saved. a way home by S.W. Photo Credit: @nicholasxbent
the dream by S.W. ⁠ ⁠ I was tired of wanting, ⁠ it was a moment where holding myself up⁠ required a concentration⁠ superseding cement. ⁠ ⁠ "Try as you wish, ⁠ but until you surrender, ⁠ the heaviness will swallow you whole." ⁠ ⁠ Photo Credi
trying not to move by S.W. ⁠ ⁠ I thought about staying consistent⁠ until her darting eyes said otherwise. ⁠ It was movement within staring⁠ it was falling apart by standing in light. ⁠ ⁠ Never again were the words⁠ ever said quite quaintly. ⁠ So we r