adore

our old town at dusk, a small flame remembers spring. paths wake under rain: flowers bloom only for us as if we never left home.

cook

the words always tangle on my ears and my mouth and they ooze down through my bones to my lungs. i know your blue veins. i know your eyes are ...

a bullseye, one of those star sticker sheets in elementary school, pencil shavings sympathy

reading ⊹ we have been slacking when it comes to reading 'classic' poets and definitely need to check out some more structured poetry! ⊹ we are eastern european, yet we ...

it is no longer spring, but we wanted to share some of our favourite spring poetry nonetheless ^_^ --- Wisława Szymborska ~ Parting with a view (Pożegnanie widoku) I don't ...

all-inclusive, us -- two wrists, one resort band, freedom overproof

and crisp aging skies create the day - you and i; now, we call it us.

memory is blind until we wake at daybreak - us, together now.