snow-fright

i’ve never met the optical illusionist that started me with writing poems on my mirror and my hand and my jeans but i think that if i did, we could be best friends. except maybe we wouldn’t because if she’s anything like her poetry she would be so full of vivid-disturbing-wonderful images so full of heart and thought and elegance that i would be frightened of drowning in the depths of her eyes and i also might hate her just a tiny bit because i admire her so much. because she can take thoughts (even the difficult-to-see ones with the fuzzy outlines). she can take them and spin them into tapestries of woven words