is heavy drumbeats on the wind

filling minds with percussion

and sound

is painted landscapes in the brain

reminding souls to experience

and explore

is shared experiences through eyes

thinking similar thoughts

and yearning

is impossible symmetry they say

beholding the greatest that exists

and admiring

It is the squelching of organs, squeezing and squeezing like water from a sponge until there is nothing left but pulp, so you curl at the edge of the sink waiting for the drain to swallow you whole, believing you'll never be saturated, satiated, and you'll know grief, the heaviest force, which drains your porous skin once filled with love incomprehensible.

Hello!

I like many writers. My current favorite is Pierce Brown, author of Red Rising. Unless you mean writers on here, which I haven't had the chance to explore yet.

Hopefully, over the next few months I can connect with other new writers. I think it's so important to build a strong writing community around yourself, and I am thankful to have found Prose!

I just posted my first work of prose on here under the "summer" challenge, so feel free to check that out! I won't bore you by posting it twice.

I'm working on my first novel, YA Fantasy. Hit me up if you're into that genre as well and we can chat!

I'm not very active on any other socials, but follow me on instagram @bekah_alice where I'll be posting updates and experiences while I write my first novel. It's been a funny adventure so far!

Your sunflower smell sticks to my skin like burrs on socks. A sticky sweet scent, like sweat and suntan lotion. Memories of your curly blonde hair clinging to me like seaweed. Pattering through my brain, your feet leave muddy footprints all over my frontal cortex. I think about hot summer days when I would wrap you up in your froggy towel like a fuzzy blanket after bath time. When you poked your button nose out to ask for kisses, and we snuggled on the couch to watch cartoons. Flowing and receding, the reflections come in waves. I think a lot about those days. About your heart shaped shades and periwinkle ribbons, and the tumultuous laughs during Saturday morning tickles. I think about the hourglass that is our lives, and how each day more sand trickles to the bottom. So I savor those hot summer nights of drippy ice cream cones and chaotic bathtimes and soft curly hair and suntan lotion. I breathe in deeply and take in each memory, each wave, and I hope you never stop snuggling closer to fall asleep on my shoulder.