blue to green;

here's the issue—we're both chasing time and coming up empty when we dig our hands into the sand and come up with muddy fingers in the afterimage of water that's escaped our cupped palms. there's something stirring in the wake of our footsteps the way dead leaves always resurrect themselves in the autumn wind to fly for a few moments before sinking back into dusty paths for boots to crunch over them in a merciless act of grace.

here's the issue—it's easier to pretend and wish than it is to look at something twisted and brittle and will it to become what it used to be. healing takes patience that doesn't come easy and daydreams are so easy to sink into in comparison that there are looping worlds of clouds that sting the eyes that take priority over the grimy, unfiltered touch of skin on skin.

here's the issue—at some point, we started wishing we had met when we were kids instead of pressing forward in stubborn abandon for a future we were always clawing to reach. at some point, we settled for the mundane flickering that came with watching the other flit in and out of our lives. at some point, i started going to bed with nothing to share between us but the moon from our separate windows, crescent and mourning. at some point, sinking into your skin felt more like a burden of the soul than it did an insatiable urge to swallow you whole so my insides would be moulded in your afterimage, a space always left for you in the delicate place behind my ribcage.

you left the light on when you left and i've never gotten up to close it. i left your door unlocked when i left and we are both waiting for closure that will never come.

Jeong Jaehyun

(´◡`) . 🐑 蒙 .

(´◡`) . 🔗 蒙 .

gif edited by me

a glistening night

. ♩ ㅤㅤ˚ 🏍 ｡ 　　 ◌

. ♩ ㅤ @jaes1lvr 　 ◌

doomed to think about this photoshoot for the rest of my life

WINWIN : NCT 2023 : GOLDEN AGE

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

wwiinn_7

just something so crazy about it. you spend years of your life together chasing after half-written happy endings you know you're not built for because you find a penny lying heads-up on the same chilly dusk evening you've found out you're in love with your best friend and luck is telling you against the odds that there will be sprawls of flora grown from gravel in the wake of this. only for all those things to fall to the wayside and sway in the wind, dried leaves marking a barely-there hint of an eaten-away garden. something or other about how the past fades but never disappears. you try to clear away those withered old souls for a touch of new green and get so wrapped up in the scent of lavender that you don't notice things have never really changed until you start to pay attention to the crunch of dead leaves under your feet.