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dreams unconsciousness


i peeled off my skin

dipped them in the river

that had the color

of your name

unraveled my bones

and carved the ridges

of your face

into the bony white

it started from hollowness

where my heart should’ve been

four summers ago you

shattered what was left of me

taken aback by your eyes

black glass, the color of

forgotten cities an hour

before apocalyptic dawn

and vinyls that played out hymns

crept into my veins, bloomed

sugar-coated whispers

like the guitar you’d strung

against my waist, so deep

your nails painted scars on me

so soft, music almost sings of

the name carved into my cheek

that burns in cold air, engraving

patterns of your lips into midnights

i hid from, writing about galaxies

in your eyes, yet i’ve never seen

moonlight through a window pane

afraid that its beauty would suffocate

and it'd feel just like you.

one of these nights, city dreams

a misty hilltop with roses and

violets flying in the wind. i am


a ragged blanket, back of

dusty wooden shelves. some nights

there is a way to live again

without ripping at the seams but

living on spilling blood and

strumming all these broken strings

a sunset of colorless dreams

constellations and paper planes

you intoxicated me without

even touching my wounds.

i’ll bury the version of me

that only existed for you

i’ll bury me in a field of flower

 so i could forever live in the


of the perfume on your neck

and when everything is done

i’ll fall asleep without crying

and i’ll be able to see you sober

the highest life, ended in

nightmares and crushed glass

i think you understand now

why i had to leave.

The 2am writer that lives in the mind of sixteen-year-old Yun-Fei Wang has been taking over her sanity for a few years now, tearing her lifeline down, yet building up an escapism in the same breath. Find her in the evanescence of black-inked words, or at @rainofelsewhere on Instagram.

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