by ty

(i) だれ (who)

A cold palm running down the back of her

milky white neck, tracing the bumps –

she shuddered at her gelid

senses for she shivered at

her own



(ii) いい (good)

The recititude hidden within the crisp creases of

the familiar clement voice she embraced and

had grown used to were the

peach streaks of neon

above her usual



(iii) 書きます(to write.)

The soft groans of paper materialized as corrugated

pearls, its chiffon dress donned with the finest

of efforts with the breeze blowing

over light blue words

tracing their steps



(iv)さようなら (goodbye).

A reverie replayed itself before her hazel eyes,

the layers peeling themselves off without a tinge

of adhesion for she was free,

that afternoon overlooking the sea

in the lovely breeze by his



AN: I think for some reason my poetry is getting a little more positive and pretty (idk I feel like it ;u;) and somehow its probably because of  how I’m allowing myself to put little nice and fluffy moments into my head while I write so hey hey. Go go love poems with pretty crap in there!!!!!!! -throws pom poms around- what even ahah idk enjoy though! (It feels like every poem I write is written for him oh god eheyhefhfhuehu fluffy adorable boy)