kirsten-christiana

We lie on the grass with our faces to the sun, and the sweat trickles down our foreheads, but we're too lazy to move someplace else. Kids yell and shriek some distance away, but otherwise our world is silent. And yet we're laughing, quiet laughter that makes our shoulders shake as our minds run through the foolish hilarity of past escapades. You see, we don't need words to make it fun. We simply need our memories, memories of yesterdays past, and our world comes alive, leaping up in a myriad of bright colours and sounds. That is all we need. I turn to watch you, you with your eyes closed and a smile on your face. What marvellous secret is i

It's a poem written out in perfect penmanship   and the words all rhyme, for sure It's a bird who sings from its nest to the dawn   and the child believes it's all for her It's a flower that blooms, reaching for the sun   and my camera gets the perfect shot It's a box of chocolates tied with a satin ribbon   truffles and pralines and flavours I forgot It's a song that beats in sync with my heart It's a book that ends with tears in my eyes It's a film that I just have to watch again and again Or maybe it's not, no, not at all... it's you It's a sunrise that lights up the sky a mellow yellow   and scares away the monster, cowa

one day passes, two, three, four faded love letters scattered on the floor never enough duvet, now too much there's no way to breathe without your touch the reality is brutal, merciless pain tiny pinpricks, sharp slices, an opened vein run, hide, screaming with all my might there is no sound, there is no light one day passes, two, three, four still waiting, waiting for that knock on the door this is so much more than just a rut it's death by papercut

The moonlight dies on my coat as I walk with hands in my pockets, head down against the wind howling to break my spirit. The streetlamps put me in the spotlight, but there's no audience, not today. The song melts away and words lose their meaning, and now I'm just wandering… looking for you. Are you looking for me too?

Eighteen years just flown by Looking back, I might just cry So much love, heartbreak, heartache From this dream, I will someday wake But not now, not just yet So many tasks have been set The endless road stretches before my feet Follow it, maybe we will meet Eighteen… so? Many more years still to go!

Plop, one drop, Two. Splattered on my hand as I lift my head to the sky eyes closed, ears blocked to nothing but the wind as it blows gently, like a child's birthday candle is gently blown out for one moment to be drawn out for all eternity.

I am a girl with a tendency to weave when she walks. Weave like her thoughts weave in the vast space of her consciousness. In and out of obscurity each thought moves. Who knows where they go?

The stinging smell of the freeze reminds me of the time you walked away – it hit so sudden and then, nothing. The first flurry of snow reminds me of the time you turned away – it meant nothing and yet, everything. The flat field of white reminds me of the time you loved me – it was mad but still, right.