A sonnet. Summer strums. Blooming winds. Revelry, elegy, one could name. Lingers into you like petrichor in the dusk, ached in lace. Let your heartbeat stead into memoir string we had past hour when we’re still unknown to who we are now. An ache or two always worth the tenacity, your bruise is always a worth-mark of the existence of yours. A darling. A muse. A flower. A tender hand to my; Kaia Elise, Alyssa Scaleir, Aleice Bythaola, Sue Ellen, Taliette Bloh, Maine, Lilie Bay, Kristle Meijin, Genne Bern, Magritte, Anselm Soléne, Kivanya Archerd, Kehlani Dae, Kanina Deloushe, Angelica Lunairy, cheers to you, cheers to us! May we always find solace in the requiem of this day. Make the love, yearning, ache, and a sorrow-polished a day to celebrate and carve our name into the passing season! ♥️🪔

Not every day feels like a reason. But most days, you are one. Soft blooms on stems no hands reach for. Even the ones marked with warnings. And you asked, "Does it matter if no one calls it lovely?" Maybe it's this. The way it still opens. The way it still tries. The rain fell and then the sky bruised with hail. Someone who loves you gathered what bent. Carried them in, cradled like defeated soldiers. Even fallen, they reached for light. And today, you've stood at the edge of the room. Watched laughter through the glass. Listened to someone speak sorrows in half-drunk syllables. You've felt the ache of almost belonging. But not today. Today is your day. Your voice is in the music. Your feet on the floor. The world still stings, but there is honey in the sting. There are fruits whose names feel like hymns. Mangosteen. Tamarind. Wild plum. Someone is calling your name, with a cake and an off-key song. Someone is glad you stayed. So stay. Touch the table. This is your party, Milena Jaan!

Your hand, my hand, may we intertwine, Douglas? :3

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ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤㅤㅤ  (15.03.26)
ㅤ  ㅤㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ Writers of Faith.
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Parallel house-tour: Angel Avenue! 🎶

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