• Hannah Flowers

citrine,

also known as the stone of the sun

and you,

also known as the sun to my moon

as shining and bright and new

floating parallel in the sky

and every eclipse brings us closer

but, god, i could never touch you.

though i dream of it

as i roll this yellow rock between fingertips

the cold, hard, smooth on my skin

opposite to how i imagine you

warm and soft and rough

as long as i sleep, never ending.

as long as i live, unknowing,

never enough.

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(un)holy ground

what once was sacred is cursed perhaps it could be worse the temple at which i’d pray overrun now by this wraith my messiah led me astray that’s what you get with blind faith my friends were also fool

you were a house.

can you feel me looking at you? can you hear me whisper to the moon? in the same way i felt you refrain heard the breaking of these chains as i tried to hold onto your frame after i had been an earthq

candles / spores

you asked me to meet you in a dream yes, i will, i replied swiftly for a moment’s pleasure seems far more important than honesty. have you ever watched a mushroom grow? some have spores which, at nigh