*all writing pieces originally from Instagram @mi.haloes*
“the conjunction/venus eyes”
As the stars flood the waterfalls of your Venus eyes,
the twinkling union surrounds my presence with your grace.
Jupiter and its moons hover amongst your serenity,
calling from beyond the hidden shores in the Appalachians,
calling from the rivers and their majestic migrations.
By the melting glaciers of your eyes tonight,
I have been summoned.
By the grand conjunction present tonight,
I have been summoned.
we are merely two celestial bodies with no where else to be,
and so I now drown in your Venus eyes.
(2023, Aug 9)
As the sun cascades over the countertop,
the delicate nature of uncertainty sets in.
A shallow feeling that drowns one’s wits.
As the stars begin to cascade over the countertop,
I reminisce about the smiles that flooded this kitchen,
gleaming with pride and blissfulness — resolute and composure were once lost.
It all felt alright,
it felt right.
Now I begin to reminisce and analyze.
Maybe things were meant to be this way, maybe this is our path.
And now I stay here as the days pass over the countertop,
and the kitchen no longer remains flooded with the memories of us.
(2023, Aug 11)
Painted with oil pastels upon this woven canvas,
each crevice and crinkle on your face lands perfectly with every bristle that is touched on the delicate surface.
Beyond the papers and strung into reality,
you stand perfectly amongst the strains of time.
Ever glistening behind a red rope.
As I observe you from a distance, you remain kind.
And simply like that, the paint and brush immortalized you beyond the words and fabrication of life.
And as you continue to exist, you simply become priceless to all.
(2023, Aug 13)
The Prosecco splashes from its bottle towards your lips,
it drowns out the words that never left your body;
that never left your mind that divulges into endless, unheard depths.
The candle you lit on the dining table flickers with the waves of your mood swings,
existing as a single burning cobalt blue barrier to the transparent golden flames.
You exist as the minuscule recreation of the grand sun,
sparkling and shining without self-recognition,
dazzling amongst a sea of untouchable mysteries,
and standing elegantly upon the weak walls of wax that birth an ever-lasting tranquility into your solidarity, within a night as serene as this.
(2023, Aug 15)