topaz winters

19, poet. it is a glory & a privilege to love what death cannot touch. homeland, thoughtstream, grid.

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Points of Faith
4 months ago
When you are as lonely as this, every month smells of her skin. Choose one, any one—February, August, like a vending machine, cards in a deck, you can never come all the way back. The whole damn calen...
4 months ago
the miracle of existence is how memory is made half of things misremembered my father in his childhood danced the checkered land- scape of his own intelligence & anger & to hear him tell it now you’d ...
Lovesong to Vernal Equinox, Standard Time
4 months ago
Trillions of beautiful things but just one you. & isn’t that miraculous, the earth giving up its glory in springtime. Choral & dimpled. The longest night is passed, meaning will come again sooner than...