Mid-afternoon Sun

Mid-afternoon Sun

Mid-afternoon sun, poem and art page by me, kiidkeroscene.

Drawn and highlighted under blue/green lights

Coloured lights

Mid-afternoon Sun
Mid-afternoon Sun
Mid-afternoon Sun

Light

Mid-afternoon Sun
Mid-afternoon Sun
Mid-afternoon Sun

The mid-afternoon sun is warm against my skin,

But her touch, her fingers gracing my jawline,

Her gaze, eyes like hazelnut and coffee,

Taking in my sight,

Her heart, full, intertwined with mine,

Her lips, brushing against my cheek,

Are warmer.

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Anger Is Heat

It starts as a spark, a flicker. It start as a glimpse. For only a moment, the darkness is seized. For only a moment.

Then

Another strike of the match and the room bursts into flames.

Ever corner. Every crevice. Light spreads like a disease.

It's cool, touchable almost- at first. It dances atop your fingertips.

You could extinguish it easily, a simple breath could end it. You should blow it out now.

And then it is warm.

It is the heat of a summer's day. Next it is the steam of a kettle. Within seconds it is the flame of candle.

And then it's the sun.

It burns everything it touches, dressing you in charcoal, leaving you steaming.

Destruction.

Damage.

You opened that window and that fire spread. Sucked out into the fresh air. The cool air.

You should have blown it out.

You can't take back the burns. The scars. The pain. You can't take back the fire.

You can't take back the heat.


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kiidkeroscene - Sawyer
Sawyer

I may be a depressed transmasc but I can cry on command. can you?

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