I LED A SIMPLE LIFE, curled up in a sleepy no-named town, running a sleepy no-named flower shop. living most of my 20 years alive romantically alone, i guess i'm still naive to the inter-workings of love.
though artificial 'i love you's' woven alongside pleasure-rocked pants in heated nights, and frugal touches of warmth in ice cold moments, were vices i've grown to avoid.
year after loveless year, i've found myself subconsciously hoping to come across something, anything, real.
could you imagine, once living in a city that reeked of cheap perfume and broken hearts?
despite me not scratching the surface of what real could be, i've taken to packing my coffee-colored bags, and sailing away from my ex-home. a place where people wore their hearts like accessories: from being displayed like a cheap ring, to being a stowed away like an emerald necklace underneath frock after painfully constricting frock. a place where engineering feelings, getting tangled in this game of love, and wearing a crown of broken hearts became the norm.
frightening, isn't it?
but here in busan, in this little dock town, you could come from all walks of life and melt away, beneath the golden sun, and grow drunk off the scent of the sea.
i'd like to imagine this flower shop as a sort of personal tower, and my heart being some stereotypical porcelain princess.
everything here glows gold.
broken windows were analogous to a pool of diamonds in the way they shimmered, and an assortment of flowers mimicked summerfruit hues in how they'd present themselves beneath the yellow rays.
though like any locked-up damsel,
i've grown bored.
at 20 years of age, my heart is still unburdened. untouched. un-loved in a sense. i've sobered up to the sleepy scent of lavenders, and my eyes began finding some rays of sunlight a bit dull.
and so here i am, dazing off into an evening-sky dyed peach, with too much time, bundles of moonflowers, and a restless heart in my hands.
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moonflower / night-blooming cereus
— short-lived, shyly blooming on a single night a year.
meaning: dreaming of love
