words without: orange.

it's the way fire feels on your skin as it traces it lovingly with its fingers, the same way that the sun feels when it kisses your cheek when you've stretched out on the beach. it's the way that citrus splashes on your tongue, the taste of the air when autumn comes and the leaves dress in their finest and fall to the ground. it's the way satisfactory tastes, and the texture of the rinds of pumpkins. it's the pop of sunflower seeds in your mouth, the sharpness of cheddar, the glistening feel of the peel of a grapefruit.

words without: red.

it is the way that apples taste, the way that strawberries dance across your tongue. it's the feeling of the heat across your skin when you're embarrassed, or when it's gorgeous outside and the sun has done a little more than just kiss you. it is the smell of blood, and the feel of lips. it is the soft velvet of a rose petal, the words that leave your mouth when you tell that special someone that you love them. it's that feeling that whispers its way across your skin when he kisses you. it's the way that your hands fit with hers, the way that his fingers interlock with yours. it's the smell of chili and chili peppers, the start of the ignition in your mouth when you crunch through a habanero pepper. it's the curve of tomatoes, and the sound of your beating heart.

revisiting: words without words.

i actually can't remember the context for that last post that i made. i think it's coming back to me very faintly, but i can't really remember the circumstances which makes me a little sad.

anyway, i think i want to restart writing again. i want to write short pieces about words without using the word ever. there's something like this floating around on tumblr, which was my main inspiration. i think i'll start with colors for now...

truths; burning.

you never realize that you’re driving a stake through the middle of a friendship until it collapses suddenly and gives way, leaving a yawning chasm between the two of you that cannot be crossed because you never planned for this; all the wood for the bridge was on your friend’s side. you cry, you mope, you gesticulate, you apologize, you scream—anything to try and get your friend to try and send you some wood, for your friend to try and start building a bridge, but there’s nothing. you don’t see anything happen from their side. and so you try and do something to make a bridge on your end, but no matter how hard you try, it just won’t stay. the soil is too soft in one place, the material isn’t sturdy enough, the wind’s too strong. either way, as the days tick along, the amount of effort that you put in to building this bridge goes down, dwindling into the negative numbers as you start to uproot all bridge-making material and just throwing it off of your island, burning it, eating it, whatever. anything to get rid of it. and you can’t really remember why you wanted to build a bridge in the first place, because it was your friend who delivered the final blow to the stake that split the friendship right? after all, it wasn’t your fault. it couldn’t have been your fault. because who does things to themselves that are deliberately bad?

muse: lights.

muse:

muse: amused no longer.

this was inspired by a picture of an abandoned amusement park. so this is more a scenery-porn piece than a muse, whoops.

muse:

muse:wide awake

well, it's been awhile since i've been on here. i should write more, i really should. whoops.

muse:
i really don't mean to stay awake so late at night every night. i really don't.