betweenyourlines

[betweenyourlines]

pitter patter

early morning raindrops

on my windowsill

[betweenyourlines]

17.04.24

yearning for you

like a felt piano

like a whisper

like a heartbeat

muted and blurred

[betweenyourlines]

06.04.24

he looked at me like i was the sun and then told me that our stars just weren't aligned

[betweenyourlines]

you are drifting further away

like raindrops down my windshield

Sunday haziness can't cure my blues

only ever thinking of you

[betweenyourlines]

i long for the day where i can be the muse

the parts that fill up the shell of my body

from the way i wear my hair

to the murmurs in my sleep

will be art to someone

art to you

[betweenyourlines]

dull aches reverberate in my chest

and thoughts crawl under my skin—

but all i can whisper is your name

[betweenyourlines]

i'm not sure what the correlation between snowy days and the people you love is but it seems that every time i look out the window and see the misty drifts i am reminded that you are far away, but maybe not as far as it seems...

[betweenyourlines]

you no longer belong to me and yet i stretch my arms out in the dark in search of your warmth

[betweenyourlines]

raging blizzard blues

a wobbly silhouette of you

disappears in the distance

[betweenyourlines]

polaris, guide me home

through the bramble

out the darkness

shining always

bright forever

[betweenyourlines]

when Kafka said "you are the knife i turn inside myself" but you are now drowning in my blood

and i am sorry for ruining your favourite sweater

[betweenyourlines]

before i leave

there are too many words

to spill onto pages

for me to really leave

[betweenyourlines]

every now and then

the moon sings a song

and i nod off

[betweenyourlines]

maybe if you look from afar

turn a blind eye to all my flaws

maybe then you could love me

[betweenyourlines]

five feet apart

we are only five feet apart—

close enough to touch even

but you seem to not even notice

that i was there

watching your curls

blow gently in the wind

[betweenyourlines]

October is slipping away

like silk through my fingers

onto frosted spiky earth

of November's agone

[betweenyourlines]

why do my fingers itch for the flame when i know it's going to burn?