i should be ashamed but i’m flattered. beauty
exists in solitude and sadness. i did nothing but
hide you in brushstrokes and poetry. the
redundancy of your memory deemed normal. your
soul, the yearning to understand you as boundless
as the ocean. from this terrible addicting hope for
something with you. it’s revolting, how much i say
i’ll love you through words, how much i want to give
you the skeleton of the universe and the secrets
of every burning star and how much i want to
hold you under the gentle yellow light of a
dying afternoon. what little time we spent
barely, barely held any meaning but through the
murky lens of the world, you saw me crystal
clear. i can’t count how many times i felt
ready to run to the ends of the earth for you. sometimes,
all the time, all that i am
is the sublimation of my desires for
you. i turned you into poetic value, capitalized
what should’ve been empathy into a dozen flowery
words. loving you has become a solitary act, a
solitary sin for the ages.
Zoe is an aspiring neuroscience major with a love for ink and calligraphy and a deep hatred for milk. She spends her time dabbling in poetry and the arts and watching the same sitcoms over and over.