𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆

thank you so much for the follow love <33

a small token of kindness (18th February 2022) 
          
          blood a kiln, vein escapees; beads of breaths, prayers and yawns. cliffs of grief, roses underneath; honey flesh and cinder calligraphies, lotus leaves and sea fires. tongues of lore, chants of irises; plagues like magma and healing from stone-seas. human names, future ores; whispering wounds and father's fury. 
          
          seventh sun, worship of the vein unknown; harvest of the chest, abandoned swords and screams of chagrin rooms. hyacinth womanhood, sewn battlefields; spines of infatuation, resolute asphyxiation. ravenous souls like saturn, cataclysm glories; tombs of sparks, hell of frost. 
          
          surrendered wombs, traded truths; crevasses of doubts, particulate vengeance, delicate answers and martyred victims. undefined magistrates, sums and divisions; canopy witches, hungry stars and unpleasant consonants. dampened twilight, charade joys and towering sorrows; uterus of shame, liver of passions and blankets of rebirth. 
          
          coffin rituals, precipice pastures; moon howls, poetry tongues. midnight licorice, cobalt corsage; emblem tresses and goblin crescents. vessel's voyage, shadowed daffodils; compassionate weapons, mothers and melodies. oceans, the water of salt and sickening; one loves the seas and carries death in their bones, one holds forests and forgets about the fires and storms. those that love, they are lost; like warmth in winter snow and like heartbeats drowned in oceans and shores. 
           #adropofhumanity

a small token of kindness (13th February 2022) 
          
          burning soulmates, strained hopes; braided yearnings, captive dreams. passion- borne blood, water an invisible vesper; moon a poet's literature, soil a paper of hunger. a predator, a musketeer, a thunder; a matchstick, a street of bougainvilleas, half a nail lost, flesh to rust. 
          
          worn arms, ragged pleasures; clean madness, innocent errors. veins of solitude, beats of courage; a farewell to religious laps, to a moon with brave life. mistakes and spaces in ribs, hearts choking in sin; rhetoric trees and murdered portraits in lights of the quiet. 
          
          ashes of nursery amethysts, stories worth centuries within; glass of a new born fist, hope dangling over a pit of abyss. authentic prison, protection from  touches; suspended lungs, pessimism a curse blind. foetal hearts and shrunken graves, suffering mirrors and homely miscarriages. 
          
          evolution of art, sugar theft; white oleander tickles and bleeding disguises of virtues. a city of ciphers,  mountains of parables; consumed violins, bruises of metal and blood. to the eyes find that nothing old or worn, and for the hearts that see no flaws and prickles, there is no death. like the moon and the sun that have not aged; human hearts as these reside as the 'oud of time. 
          
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (04th February 2022) 
          
          hazel sparks, tragic seams of a sweater upset; courtyard apples, seeded candles. glazed accidents, tempered solitude; tears of strangers, knives of kin. despised palms, courageous cheeks. brittle mango, candy windows; purposeful black, golden august. tattood bone, bonfire salt; rainbow cracks, sunset acceptances, littered letters, raw sins. 
          
          lily fragments, lotus silhouettes; mirrored solace, heart a plague of the soul. azure ache and sandy water; little grace and a life foolishly slaughtered. seas of summer, dirt of december; butterscotch reminders, crescent veiled infants. foul forests, mindful witches; innocent flesh, disaster rest. 
          
          forged caves and buried minds, dry heroes and coloured knights; cigar feathers and absent mothers; clumpy claws and bleeding wombs. "survival of the fittest", moon distant from vultures; exhausted children, sick homes. voweled fog and  redwood roots; gazpacho lips and palimpsest sorrows. 
          
          ravine neighbours, nestled creeks; nebulous insomnia, moon an enemy of sleep. preserved steps, earth a castle; knuckles a home of citrus rind, shredded skin and cold wings. february cabin, urn burnt; syrup of the lungs, plum murmurs. the precious wounds we carry as a museum of art, we hold hearts in our palms; but what of all who wound them whenever they shake our hands? does the sky hand the moon to the earth? why then are we devils to our own skin? 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (23rd January 2022) 
          
          a castle of despair, a window of home; a pane of terror, deperate hair shadowed by glamour. five hundred corridors of warped walls and monster roots, orchids etched into the shortcomings of madonna. femurs of frozen mulberries, violet trees; empty ghosts and suburbia covenants. follicles of water children, a scarlet prayer; statis of jimbled seasons. 
          
          tongues slaughtered, teeth of ecstacy; palms of pheromones. saltwater caves, ocean fevers; lichen peaces, hyperboarean shades. burn, burn, rose fleshed and warm; feral and pearl and tenderly blanketed by a grave of faults. violaceous horizons and newborn girls; summers of paris, pigmented  resurrections. 
          
          is it not a privilege to be consumed by strips of soil and ancient wounds? drunken floods and wary mirrors, barbaric chalk and devoured freedom. sand from a sandalwood slipper, forgotten in the heavy waters of fluid frocks; a momentary memory, a saffron strand from rare Harberton field. 
          
          the surrogacy of a father, the veins of sage and cord of lapis placenta; a meadow of elfchens and sweetened lungs of cocoa. grace a pond of lotuses, sip and sip and sip. a bottle of fog and fostered wings; poisoned funerals and lilac libraries. broken with pink haze and littered with rotten ashes; the heart must exist. in the ribs, in the cage, in its shelter. it is disaster yet is hope, drop it not, it breathes copper and tolerates iron, it suffocates on metal and consumes the devil. lives that are bent are protected, they cannot be broken by death. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (19th January 2022) 
          
          sentimental shine, freezing light; desire to communicate, despondent oakmoss. ventricles of the lungs, roads of the woods; one of the blind, the other of frost. caffeinated blood, impure stones; classical truth, the days of rebirth. hope a commodity rare, mind a spoilt child; alabaster abyss, dogwood a page of flower petal. 
          
          window of east, juliet moonlight; scars of birth, marks of sight, yells of silence and procured mortality. sinking identities, what are we in search of; what are we shaped with, grieving pomegranates or bleeding heavens?  
          
          blessings of invisibility, rippling shadows of the moon; marigold tomorrow, a hue of today's opal soil.
          the wrath of earth, the suns of our sins; robin beginnings, a foetus reborn. shells of a wolf, vermillion wicks and witch's brew; humming sunsets, rain from fingertips and water of the heart a rainbow in the sky. 
          
          magical blooms and stamps of saturn, barefooted nights and castles of sand; touch of autumn, bodies of russet thunders. the souls the angels of heavens that cannot be seen by naked eyes. is that why people are deemed to be art? — fields of jaguar flowers and burl wood stars. like the nature that is haunted with its art of storms and hearts, are the humans haunted by the art of their souls that carress them like letters from God? 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness (16th January 2022) 
          
          oceans of tiny petals, mirrors of perfumed errors;  honey calligraphies, glazed memoirs. eyes of springs, tears of atlantic stillness. loans of labyrinths, seas of satin silk; light a buried chest, home a warrior fled. masks of acanthus, aloe smiles; traps of begonia, clematis captured. 
          
          locks of dainty crocus, the daisy feet of mothers;  tears of willow, pomegranate feathers. ever has it been the mother knows not the depth of her tenderness until the thunder storms strike. much of her and her nature is crumpled under malicious feet; scrupled steps and holly hands. 
          
          battlefields and loneliness, camaraderie homes and ginger breads; half of wings, glass of fire, blades of seas and diamond clawed waves. sun of the end, candle flamed dances; fostered crimson, postcard lashes. a mess of the earth crumpled at the feet of time, fleeting with lies, with promises of fading sea stamps. 
          
          crumpled proverbs, papyrus tortures; grainy winds and pyramid oceans. love is an ancient illusion, one of the lines of palms; existence hidden, the rain and the wind callouse it. a choke on roses, shade of the dark vases; cellar of echoes for the upholders of love, sun of the violent rugs. love comes not from tender places, and is not for the gentle peaches. it comes from blue suns and twilight centuries, from you, the very person you hate. 
           #adropofhumanity 

a small token of kindness 
          
          the tiny granules of the sky stuck in the sun, peppered kisses and silent ferns; cordial drinks of the numbing nemesis, ticklish hold of the rainbow-like abyss. seals of garnet springs, pebbles of the ocean's mist; drunken lilacs, lavender winds, plummeting clouds and cherry ink. 
          
          kisses of tears, buried sapphires and bones of the heart; flesh as raw as the sunset, suffering paints and hidden ganges. chirping fantasies, dead children; alive alleys and vintage frost. the moon stripped from the darkness, carried in the valves of a pumping spirit; pots of palms and eyes of ebullient epidotes. 
          
          the veins of the tingling feet, giggles of the cold wind; strokes of sand over damp cheeks, grazes of calloused fingers like ginger tea. comfort in a foreign realm;  the hills of memories, the ones lost to words. mindful arguments, annotations of donated pieces; what we love, we live in it. what are souls but wild things that appreciate not their iron crescents? 
          
          mosaic metamorphosis, a breath of transparency; fibbed thirsty veins and a formal lemon drink. ghosted feelings, trembling tongue; soaring revenges, executed love. blood like tsunami, deep and desiring; heart a peacock, flower stone canvas. 
          
          one glance in the eyes of the predator, the earth is but a thousand year old rock. destruction births not from it but from the one of life, the one of branches, the silver knights. repeated cremations, fire is home; death a neighbour. like the sun and the moon, fire and cold come from within, not from around, life too an ocean, both the giver and the beggar, a dreary dream. 
           #adropofhumanity 
          

a small token of kindness (07th January 2022) 
          
          troubled by the chaos of the earth, weighed upon by the barren roof, struck by the canines of responsibilities, drenched in the ocean's cold. the warm clouds hiss at the burn from the morning rays, the nightingales dedicate a melody to the rustic waves. each day a older sun rises to a newer morning, and a weaker breath from the body. 
          
          armoured kites, papered hearts, monochrome schemes, lustred bones. pleasure of the pain, burden of what is gained; bruises of the moon and its light upon our veins, behemoth skies and its anger upon the land of sinners. rosed dishes, savoury bites, the wound of tomorrow a sacrifice for the smile of today. 
          
          missed are the terraces of the burnt lips, every dream of the passed breaths. what pricks the throat but the warm sip of the coffee that reignites the vessel of sorrows, like the tentacles of an octopus, the arrows struck. timeless breeze, the wash of the early morning a moon written lullaby; decorated sins, the pleas of the saviours etched upon tender greens. 
          
          powerful is the world, glorious is its stage. a mother it is; careful with its touch, destructive with its womb. one arises to the death of another, the loom of yesterday a gust of today; yarn tangled with the hems of life, in every lung a million lines. one is terrified of the other of its kind, but the moon has never felt threatened by the sun's strength. 
           #adropofhumanity 

❝ hey morgan. i want you to know that i'm proud of you. i'm proud of you for getting through another year. things have not exactly been smooth but i'm proud of you for getting back up each time life has pulled you down. i'm proud of you for trying, for speaking up. the year has taught you alot, changed you alot. you've achieved or done things you never thought you were capable of. give yourself some credit; the permission to unfold. strip down to the rawest and most authentic version of yourself. don't dwell on the past. look into it, learn from it, figure out where you went wrong and move on. do not conceal your emotions. you need not to be someone else. who you are is perfect. ❞