nostalgia

it always feels so lovely to re-read old pieces of writing.
this was written around a year ago:

remember when we used to sit under the stars with all the youthfulness in the world?
you were caressing my honey bruised knees and flowers bloomed in the palms of your hands
and the sun left little fishhook scars behind the curves of your ears and we sat and we talked about things even bigger than ourselves.
we bathed our empty beings beneath the moonlight until our bones were anchored to the ground
and the trees were feathering and you left patterns of yourself gently etched onto my skin
dust was collecting on the tips of my fingers and you were fraying in delicate corners and your bones were cracking and the whites of your eyes were melting into the aether;
you splayed your heart across my palm like moth wings (lace shadows)
and breathed in rose petals
and melted the stars and lulled yourself to sleep and we drowned gently
under rustling leaves and soft winds embroidered with white petals and floating dreams
heavy with swollen sighs
(goodbye goodbye, begonia skies)