• Hannah Flowers

the moon is a woman,

the way her light shines

upon us in our darkest times.

she is full of blemishes,

but her craters are a mark

reminding of what she’s survived.

her aura is stunning,

bright white surrounded by

colours unseen to the naked eye.

without her, the sun,

egotistical, left unchecked

would surely fall from the sky.

sie ist eine frau,

die mond und ihr sterne,

ohne sie, verschwindet die zeit.

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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