unspool and crystallize

the little random and spontaneous things


You were on the left

I was on the right

You pulled me a little to your side

As you squirmed a tad bit towards me.

Now we’re in the middle

Uttering no words,

 You leaned your head on my shoulder

And I felt you softly breathe into a slumber.

It’s 2 AM. Your gentle smell still seeps through my skin while your heartbeat pulses through my left side.


raindrops sprinkle the leaves overhead,
and stream the asphalt with puddles.
they playfully slide down your umbrella
and throw careful splashes away from me.

I stole a glance, and saw your left shoulder drenched. 


“And so the grasses, they grow- oblivious to your departure. I sprinkle water over the pots and yet they wither.”

Passenger Seat

You picked me up at 5 in the morning and I go around for shotgun. I swung the door open just to meet a sunflower resting on the passenger seat.

“I wanted to claim your first smile of the day.”

You sure know how to make my day.


“Nice one!” I say.

You raise your hand and I smile.

I reply back with a high-five.

It was a loud clap  that lasted for a  second

but you held onto my hand a split second longer.

Sun Dance

July had kept its promise and brought about its melancholic rain. He knew about her hatred towards the weather so he told her about his sun dance in their 3 PM phone call over a cup of caramel machiatto.

He said, “I’ll do the sun dance and bring the sun back to keep loneliness creeping up on you. Just tell me when.” She could almost hear him smug.

“What if,” she said, twirling with the telephone cord. “What if I wanted it now?”

The line went quiet as she imagined him go about his so called ritual.

Yet, the sun never came.

By the evening when the gray skies called in as a substitute for the pink glow of the summer,  he knocked on her door. She swung it open just to meet a man holding out a stem of a sunflower; the yellow covering up most of his face.

“I told you I could bring the sun out.”

She smiled.

There ain’t no sun but I got a sunflower bright enough. 


It was a round bush
With tiny violets
They were fragile
But I found them pretty

I wanted one
And keep it between pages
You said you’d pick me the prettiest violet
And so you did

Now it’s in chapter twenty-seven
What were the violets called? Never found out.
So how exactly do I recall?
By allowing my thoughts to touch you

They were violets
And they were fragile.


You make me sad in so many ways

and it annoys me cause I have

no right to feel this way.


He scattered specks of glitters

Across her obscured hemisphere.

He hung a crescent illumination-

A sliver of his dawn.

She fell off track of her orbit

As he defied gravity.

Now everything is unfathomable yet

i m p e c c a b l e.


You make me exponentially happy but I get scared at where this is going.


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