Updated: Dec 11, 2019

A pink-haired wallflower, I’m melted salmon, and that is all some are allowed to see. But you have noticed me- everyday, at least once. A gentle discovery pricked by your delicate fingers- you can never make me bleed- my rosy bubbles refuse to burst. Flushed flames burn brighter, this feeling wouldn’t ever tire. For it rages much too strong, a sensational sweet burn. Shell-pink tulips stretching towards the sky, a soft warmth among the clouds. You’re like a fairy drenching the sweet air around me with a deep breath of an illuminating sunset fleeting into the ocean. To all these fuscia moments we have shared, in your ballet slipper apparel, my rouge predilection, your hot pink vision, the primrose blush on my cheeks. Magenta glitter shining vibrantly- your grace in billowed crepe petals. Whatever we are, I want this bouquet to be infectious, to automatically surround me, you, and all the others we hold true to their claims. The hues of consistent rose in those that surround us and give growth to the contentment and cheerfulness we share. We ought to be drinking pink champagne every day, to celebrate the faded coral blossoms of our clan. Pink never was my favorite color, but with your presence, I will hold it eternally dear- decorating the floor with luminous rosewood ideas, rooms blossoming, pollen dripping from our being. I definitely only have pink feelings.

Updated: Dec 31, 2019

This blog post is dedicated to the gorgeous individuals that I am outrageously proud to have in my life at this time. I am so deeply fortunate of the propitious times we have been allowed to share. I’ve never been more providential to title someone as “friend.”

You tend to, without exception, omit what is fragmented and exclusively notice and admire the fair, sometimes dull, flowers in my garden. A rainbow has never been more bright, there has never been as many luminescent starry nights. Your footprints are delicately located in the deepest corners of my existence. You walk me through adventure, I not once suffer suspicion of being alone or forgotten. We’ve gathered no dust, we’re not intend on becoming corroded. We’ve tasted each other’s eagerness, vivacity, and tangled souls. You present me with abundant understanding, you magnify my happiness and absorb my sorrow. You furnish my abandoned depression. You plant vibrant flowers in cavities that’s unknown and unexplored. Their roots are sturdy and powerful, spreading into my core. You’ve provoked an endless youthful giggle, something that I’ve never known to exist in my acknowledged self before. You’ve sunned my tears, you’ve set at ease my tenebrous fears. You refuse to misguide your intentions, you’re strictly grounded in honest proclamation, you don’t show caution when confronted by contrasting objections. We’re envisioned as trees, allowing each other to grow, to progress. We’re embedded and entrenched into a forest of righteousness, trust, and respect.

For as long as I remain awake, I will cherish the blossoms you have taught me to appreciate. For as long as you inhabit the crevasses in my days, I will love you, bashfully, entirely, thoroughly, and I’ll never, ever be ashamed.

Updated: May 24, 2020

not luminous as a rainbow

nor vibrant as the sun

faded grays, lifeless yellows

not meant for anyone

black, red, sometimes white

colors belonging to me green, purple, uranian blue

colors absorbed by you contrasting colors in the sphere we breathe always a reminder of you your lips

barely distinguishable from your pale ill skin your freckles

pitch dark, disastrous, burned in your eyes

a notebook somewhere lost or forgotten your tangled, twisted hair

a backpack with broken straps

wasting away in an old suitcase freshly plucked flowers

my candlelit wall your new button up shirt

my blood spiraling down the waterfall the apartment wall we used to share

loneliness, dread and sorrow my mascara running down my cheeks

your heart ;hollow

the shoes a size too big for you

people we once were proud we knew an unwritten page torn out of your journal

your betrayal, like a Judas kiss, beaten up and bruised, surpassed the turmoil the delectable liquor in the cracked crystal in my hand

your moistened papilla that I sink my teeth into, next to my new night-stand weak street light in the night-time sky

lust we partook in so unforced and enthusiastically, sometimes a little shy the burned down, incinerated, plastic Christmas tree

my tattoo'd covered scars I try to hide underneath rusty chunks of worthless copper and gold, our fragile, tormented love, rotten and old your frosted, benumbed hands

regret and rue the day-light sky,

transgress - the colors I'll soon forget, when I make it through


© 2019 by Michelle