Poetry and quote image archive.

in knee-deep grass i move through this slowly between long stretches of dirt i call home where the earth feels uneven beneath me and memory settles into the ground like rain that never fully dries we make movement in pa…

i follow hollow roads through streets that ache beneath my feet we feign in dance together holding strings pulled tightly between us so thin they could break with one wrong movement and i repeat this motion endlessly li…

this time aches hollow like wooden boards covered in old numbers weathered markings proof that something once stood here and i lay beside the sound of regard hoping to answer eventually once my thoughts learn how to spe…

and i move with the way we transcend into bits and pieces of ourselves falling softly through the evening street lights flickering above us beneath the daze of where we left this the glow reflecting on pavement like mem…

to reach through drawers of empty closets inside homes that no longer exist except in memory except in the quiet corners of ourselves where old lives continue breathing softly the webs interlocked in memory dust resting…

i theorize us in the context of who i thought we may have been and i sit inside that thought for far too long stretching it wider and wider until memory becomes something almost livable something i can walk through agai…

to wake inside the thought of this the heights of what we once called us and i take shape through it forming ideas in my head from broken words and half-spoken meanings sentences unfinished yet somehow still understood …

the wind feels so melancholy like a bittersweet afternoon trapped inside a memory you never fully leave behind the kind of moment that returns years later through scent or weather through silence through a song playing …

i lie inside these days where sometimes the clouds feel heavier where the air itself carries weight and time suddenly stops beside me while we sit inside clocks whose wheels turn sideways hands frozen between moments li…

and i think we sway by the way of the lights the dim glow reflecting off tired walls and i turn toward the things we leave on dressers rings, receipts, half-empty glasses little proofs we were here half past midnight wh…