The ocean hums your name in whispers, a melody carried by tides that know no end— steady, unyielding, like the strength you quietly weave into each moment. You are the calm between waves, the stillness where dreams gather and grow, a reminder that patience is not idleness, but the art of believing in what is…

crushed red bull can on the train tracks in naples, I stop where people never get off. a glutton for americana. confession in a foreign country, sins lost in translation. This was written by our contributing writer, Azure Brandi.

Tea, in a pot, served in a china cup on a little saucer.  Tea with the bag still in,  It’s cold, but it’s comfortingly so.  There’s bread that’s stale,  It’s dusty, And I’d like to read a newspaper.  It’s a day for sitting crossed-legged on the floor,  It’s always a day to sit crossed-legged on…

Sometimes, in the cold autumn nights I embark on a journey towards the moon. To find my way back home, in the heights Where memories linger from a night in June. Visualizing the moon’s gentle embrace, A sweet feeling arises, my heart finds peace. Moonlight softly kisses my cheeks, As the world around me quietly…

gargantuan love affair in the style of gaze aversion, to be your friend your woman means we don’t leave prince on this bus ride, german superlative schlechtester bullet eye, closed-up phone love oceanic dating support be like skimming off old cream old make-out, i’ll miss them on the plane back to my adventure, i change…

I carry you in songs unsung. I carry you in quiet ways. Looking back to the time we shared, I think those were the best of days. Curled up beside your wobbly legs; Listening as you tell those stories, But now that you are no longer here, I will forever cherish those memories. I carry…

she was not born to be loved for her beauty she was born to be loved for who she was she was not born to please others she was born to please herself and her needs she was not born to fit into boxes she was born to be free as a bird she was…

Orange peels. Cinnamon sticks,  season of the witch.  Mary Jane’s and socks with frills,  there’s bows and scarves, and I think pip mentioned bread.  Or berries. The air makes me think of ink pens,  the kind that smudge on the page and leave reminders on your hands all day long.  That’s not a summer pen,…

I. The Fall I built a home within your arms,  where laughter danced like candle flames,  where whispered vows in midnight dark  were etched upon my fragile frame.  You spoke in verses soft and sweet,  each syllable a silken thread,  I wove them into tapestries  and laid them where I laid my head.  But love…

She is the Darling Doe, Made flesh with the curves of a woman, A love letter to the meadows her mother roams. The windows to her soul dance with a marriage of honey and chocolate, As if the spirit of innocence from the terrified doe was captured on the face of a woman. Mercury does…