aylin-archer

[aylin-archer]

[ devotion ] i exist merely to be ever consumed by His very being. ever faithful, ever loyal to my King that sits upon his grand throne. bright halo, crowned by the gods, around His head serves as a reminder of why i never waver in my faith. my Patron Saint, i pray to thee, please… the center of the very universe, You’re all i ever need. a most fortunate servant i am to get on blushing knees. my lips are most revered to lay upon thy divine flesh. oh, how truly blessed i am to be wholly consumed, heart, body, and soul, by You. - aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

[ honey ] Irises as rich as honey that serve as a reflection of his sweet disposition. Scarred hands that flip pages of books. Chocolate, parchment, and cigarette smoke invade my senses rendering me utterly hopeless. Starry nights, drunken touches… fall moon kisses and stars in my eyes. He's the crisp autumn air I breathe in. His ivy branches grab ahold of my mind; it’d truly be a happy death if he were the last thing I gaze upon. - aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

[ canis major ] Grey eyes, soft lips, and wandering hands. My hands clasped tight at your waist. Copper hair blowing in the wind. Leather pressed right up against my nose. Mountains and hills off in the distance; lonesome meadows flying past my peripherals. Lit cigarette brightening up your face, a glint in your eyes that I can’t quite place. Freckles and tattoos, stars that make up constellations in the quiet night sky. Brightest star in the sky, my lover is. Manicured red hands try to tame the mess of black curls. You’re a far off dream I can only hope to softly leave feather light kisses upon. - aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

[ butterfly ] I will never love like before. I've been shattered like a glass bottle by men who all hold hammers against my heart. My trust like a butterfly’s wing has been broken so easily. Why build myself back up just to be shattered so recklessly? No. My existence will not be reduced to a claustrophobic enclosure. I will not be proudly displayed, no. My wings shall fly me to a renaissance. - aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

so soft it hurts

[aylin-archer]

[ a lesson in pottery ]

01.23.25 Innocent mind that still needs to be reassured that there are no monsters under her bed. Your ideology of breaking me in order to grow strong in a world that doesn’t hold back on cruelty, so you didn't have to either. What reason is there for a child to feel the weight of the world on their tiny shoulders? I never asked for any of it, yet you sculpted me in your ways. Clay on your pottery wheel. Knocked back into a ball due to too many ‘imperfections’, never enough. All I wanted was to be comforted, protected from this callous world. I craved an inkling of your touch, to hear soft words of affection. Your philosophy of life only prepared me to protect myself from someone like you, no one is supposed to feel that way. How can you be my first heartbreak? How can you betray your family with ease? How can you live with yourself? The idea of a man like you being my own future is something so haunting. Yet, I’ve met men like you and have tried to mend them; to no avail. How can that be? However, one does not have to look very hard to find these traits. All I have to do is look in the mirror and there they are. Your most irredeemable qualities lay on display for me to try and pick apart from my skin. They say the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. How difficult is it to say an ‘i love you’ to your own flesh and blood? Not as hard as the sound of my heart breaking or the slaps across my face… - aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

[aylin-archer]

my lover, the ocean

[aylin-archer]

[ blood-red reverie ]

Spill the blood that makes this lonely heart beat. Cradle my shivering form into your strong body. Let us meld together, let my heart become utterly yours. Dark moon over bright sun; the rise and fall of your chest. My head dizzy with the  sound of your heartbeat. Rush of blood. Reach into my ribcage and have what is rightfully yours. Swallow all my sorrows and feel them burn at your throat like harsh whiskey. Whisk me away and let the warmthness of love take root. Plant kisses on my bruised knuckles. Bite marks and love bites that show i'm entirely yours.

- aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

[ you, me, & the vinyl spins ] You never seem to leave my mind. You’ve packed your bags and taken the highway that leads straight to My Heart, USA. You’ve decked out your new place with brand new furniture to match. Soft loveseat placed in front of the television. A kitchen to bake your favorite desserts. Queen sized bed that i know holds two so comfortably. Black cowboy boots left near the front door next to some black converse all stars. Silver fridge containing your bitter coors light bottles and my sweet twisted teas. Matching black hoodies tucked away in our shared closet. Framed pictures of us rest on the white walls. A vinyl spins on the table that softly emits Frank Ocean through its speakers. Home.

- aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔯𝔱

[aylin-archer]

currently my biggest opp is my dad

[aylin-archer]

[ throes of indifference ]

“at least you didn’t sleep with him, that would’ve been worse”, but at least i would’ve known why. i would’ve known that all you wanted was my body. i would’ve happily given it up for you, if only to share a single passionate moment with you. however, your lips never went near me except when you were asking to know all of my intricacies. i can’t seem to wrap my head around the perplexity that you are. why? a question that keeps me up at night, haunts me like a wretched poltergeist. will i find the answer to it at the bottom of my glass or at the end of this cigarette? what have i done wrong to warrant the indifference in your eyes and the coldness of your heart? was i not good enough for you? i must admit that i never am, maybe that’s the painful truth. if i’m something, i’m nothing but a dumb teenager who wasted time pining after a man who tossed her aside like sticky gum on the bottom of your shoe. there’s nothing i could or would do that might warrant a single simple explanation from you. i ran away from a safely secured future that i would’ve settled for if not for the mere shred of the possibility of sharing a wild tryst with you. if you wonder why i’m filled with disdain towards you it’s because you’ve led me to drink from a fountain of sickeningly sweet lies. i was merely nothing but a toy built for your amusement, but there i was playing my role to a tee, the role of your jester.

- aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

sometimes i like to think

that i am the number one

that i am the only one

that i am the favorite one

but i simply am not

they have cried together

laughed together

sang together

and they hate each other

but simply

i will never be better

and never will i be

the number one

the only one

or the favorite one

i will just be

someone

[aylin-archer]

In the gallery of slow mornings that dons on a dusky afternoon like appearance, caffeine

lingers like a heavy and striking echo that clings to the filigrees on wooden panels long after

the last note has faded, staining the silence with the aroma of possibility that’s not far

removed from a chiseled conviction. Each moment feels like a sip, a slow melting of time,

ice cubes shifting in glass like thoughts in mid-air, half-formed, flickering between

what is and what could be. A hand pours, deliberate and steady, guiding the dark stream

into a cup that catches dreams: a vessel for ambitions both grand and mundane.

In the quiet corner, the French press waits, a still-life of oil bottles, a library of tastes

collected and stored like distant memories on dusty shelves, each drip a detour

back to some forgotten start. Cookies, misshapen but earnest, sit like relics of a cloying time,

draped in a paper shroud that crinkles like cushiony laughter. Don’t mistake them as

simply cookies like I did; they're forgiveness for the days spent running on empty,

the black-and-white line drawings of adolescence still fresh on plates that bear memories of a time

we knew how to dance with total abandon, with friends wearing our mismatched hearts

on sleeves that have since been rolled up & stained with coffee spills and hurried decisions.

[aylin-archer]

[ sweetheart ]

messy mullet combed by my delicate fingers. soft brown eyes peering through round glasses. toned arms wrapped around my slender waist. sturdy fingers soothingly moving against my skin; building a calmness that only the rolling of ocean waves can duplicate. charming smile as rare as a comet that only shines for me, paired with a devilishly handsome mustache that tickles my lips with every sweet kiss. a husky voice calls out, “sweetheart”. and i swear that my name has never sounded as sweet as it did when it fell from your lips. letting me exist in the same space as you is a gift unlike any other. which is why i am perfectly content with being yours. that is who i am, that’s all i ever want to be, entirely yours.

- aylin a.

[aylin-archer]

[ echoes of delusions ]

One simple glance, one small conversation, one sheer delusion. (i’m wishing, praying for the possibility of it being shared) How can i be expected to continue with my menial tasks when that stare freezes me in place? Those puppy dog eyes, hiding behind round glasses, that seem to follow my every move making my crimson blood flow right to my cheeks. Have you noticed the effect your presence has on me? But this affair, is it all in my head? Is it only a plain fantasy born from the desire of my mind? Have i taken your actions and ran with them? Made up a romance that only exists as a threatening hypothetical? Maybe, but you did start the conversation and even asked for my age. So that has to mean something, right? My friends all think so… and how can the crowd be so wrong when they’re rooting for just us?

- aylin a.