I might as well be in a garden

Both the top and skirt are from Goodwill 
Lyric Title taken from Gold by Chet Faker 


To the East

let us sway to the east. 
As we dance and we sing.
As our breath brings us closer
to our hearts and our hymns. 
May my lips and your chin
never part
from each-other. 
For the feel of your chest
makes mine stutter, 
like a drummer. 
Let us sway to the east, 
at a step 
and a dance. 
Arms close to your smirk,
and that little hint of happy,
on your shirt. 
- FrailRouge


Holding On

When you hold on to something for the fear you might fall. 
As if you never learned to walk. 
A line so thin, it's like a riddle. 
A wire of sadness and pressure, 
bent under a weight made only of air. 
One breath is all it took, 
as the wire shook, 
and fell. 



The Lovers

Sometimes, when my roommate and I go out to buy groceries, I see these two lovers.
A man on his bike and a woman on the handle bars.
They are beautiful and magnificent and all I want to do is photograph them. I want to somehow capture all of their joy and innocence in one picture but it’s always so fleeting.

So I wrote about them instead.

" Every time we cross the road, there the lovers are. Smiles, flowers, and hair ablaze. A 60’s match replaying like a distant memory, alive and real. I yearn to scream and hear a song from blissful lips. On they go, radiant and gold, to capture the day in their fragile hands and set free a light never imagined. The lovers laugh as they marvel each other, as if there was no road, no sign, no earth. A Love so powerful it drowned out everything else. If I were alone, I’d thought to have imagined it.
They are transcendent beyond our own. I love them. I never want them to fade. I want him to place another flower in her hair and ride in infinite circles. Forever in the mystical microcosm on the side of the road. " -FrailRouge


Ma vie vide.

Si c’est la vie, 
je suis un fantasme.
Une illusion.
Pas de couleur.
Pas de l'amour.



cada día

Las victorias más grandes de esta vida son los momentos que comparto contigo cada día. 
- FrailRouge


That Never Was

Like ink, opaque.
The sheets which cover, lie headfirst onto crisp white.
 I write and write.
With, without, and wondering. 
You, You, You.
The only part of life that never was.