sunflpwers

[sunflpwers]

draft. || a.r

Sorry I haven’t really been writing much recently, but here’s an old draft that I don’t really remember what I wanted to do with!

[sunflpwers]

reverence (make it holy).

i. 

you’ve never known what to do with your hands, so you fold them together in your lap. if you focus hard enough, you can almost feel the bite of the rosary beads on your palms, taste the bile on the back of your tongue. the congregation in your head sings the backing track to your shame, so you sing along. 

you always sing along.

ii. 

the priest says that being gay is a sin, and your mother’s voice in the back of your head screams her agreement. you bite your lip, pull your sleeves over your hands and avoid eye contact- what is a boy who likes boys anyway, if not a fish in a barrel? you can feel their eyes on you, feel the judgement pressed into your throat like a blade. one wrong move, and you feel like you’d shatter completely. you wonder if anyone in there would care. you don’t even know if they’d notice.

iii. 

for the first time in a long time, you swallow the lump in your throat. your mother wouldn’t approve, the hateful god that they preached wouldn’t approved- but that’s just how you know it’s right. it must be right, or else you wouldn’t be this goddamn happy all the time. you’ve found paradise, but it wasn’t in a book or a prayer like the old people promised it would be. paradise has hands, a warm smile, a heartbeat- no bite in your palms anymore, just the smooth of his thumb along your heart line. any god out there must be a loving god, you’ve decided- no hate filled god could make a love like this. he made it sweet, made it warm, made it holy. 

you keep your hands folded in your lap, but this time his fingers pressed into your palm like a promise.

december, week 1

1. shapelessness  2. jesus on the dashboard  3. a death in the snow   4. warm hands 5. make it holy

[sunflpwers]

someday.

the sun comes out at night, now.

the last dregs of summer are dying now like the embers of a discarded cigarette, but you welcome the winter. you have never feared the cold, but it hardly matters- you have all the warmth you need even as the heat of the summer starts to fade. 

he sleeps well into the daytime where you are, so the sun stays suspended until he wakes. the world is quieter before then, like everyone is holding their breath for his return. maybe they are- you know you are. you waste the hours away, until you get to talk to him again.

it’s three a.m. now, and time bends towards him, like a flowers desperately striving for any sunlight that it can reach. you can breathe at night, and you know that you should be asleep but how are you supposed to go now? now that he’s there, and time has stopped for a while around you- the morning will come as it always does, rushing towards you, but each moment feels like forever. the ache of exhaustion settles in your bones, but you hardly feel a thing.

someday, it won’t be like this. you know that, you do, but someday feels like forever away now. you go to sleep alone, wake up reaching for someone who is thousands of miles away- you’d wait forever for him, but patience has never been one of your virtues and you miss him like a blind man misses the sun in his eyes. 

you fall asleep holding your phone, and you wait for someday.

(a.r)

[sunflpwers]

october (a.r)

[sunflpwers]

a study on why icarus fell in love with the sun. (a.r)

[sunflpwers]

on falling in love with the sun. || a.r

[sunflpwers]

Day 1: A fresh start.

[sunflpwers]

the last sunday in june || a.r

[sunflpwers]

on falling in love with the sun. || a.r

[sunflpwers]

icarus, drunk. || a.r

[sunflpwers]

you didn’t really think you’d get to keep him, did you? || a.r