BLOOM AND ROT.


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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
Even now, I @ReiNaoi carry your absence like a relic, tucked beneath my ribs, wrapped in silk and sorrow, because some voids deserve to be kept warm. 🫀
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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So I keep walking. Draped in a silence stitched from all the words I never said, my heart unraveling gently, pretending that unraveling is the same as release.






Forward from: BLOOM AND ROT.
”I wish we would have met sooner. You could have saved me from the rot, I could have saved you from the bloom.” But we are ghosts of opposite seasons, you forever unfolding, me forever undone.


A heart-shaped locket, heavy with silence. Inside: pale strands of hair, still curled like promises whispered too late. No name. Only the scent of lavender and loss. And in the hush between the two, between what I carry and what I bury, I thought of you.




ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
(🫀.) AS IF LOVE WERE A CONTRACT / AS IF TRUTH WERE ENOUGH.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ


Thread through bone, button through socket. My heart a velvet patch sewn crooked, beats only when it remembers. And it remembers everything. They say I was loved, once. Softly at first. Then with ruin. Love, I’ve learned, does not rot from absence, but from too much handling. In the third drawer of a forgotten desk, I found her voice sealed in porcelain. An enamel box, still blushing with rose. If you love me, it read, don’t deceive me.


(I was not born. I was stitched.) ற



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