her film noir || ♚

[reverie,]

prologue -
i've done a couple other short projects around this forum,
and I feel as though they have been leading up to this one.
i have never been extraordinary at anything, but i have a
knack for making mediocracy look beautiful sometimes. so
with the aid of my film here i am, attempting, to evoke
emotion through a few words and an image captured using
a fixed 50mm lens attached to a camera older than me and
(probably) you.
images all belong to me please don't steal them :c

i love and appreciate all your compliments but please
keep them to the poll or (even better!) pm me!
do not post here

[reverie,]

monday night
her eyes were locked into that polaroid you pinned to your dashboard.
the car you crashed, i'm guessing you didn't care enough to take it.
she was more than just rainy weather, she was the storm;



she was sitting on a damp couch, a misty evening
do her lips still smell like roses?
do her hands?
is she still using that perfume?
or did she move on?
when is she, too, going to cut all her hair off?
well, she still has bags under her eyes.



warm mornings in the sun
she sat on the bench where you use to sit
and drink coffee, and talk about things you loved.
now she was sitting there petting other people's dogs
talking to them about other beautiful things.



blu room
it felt better waking up to baby blue
than it did to white
and the tree tops from the balcony
through the fog
things have never felt so good



10:47
she fell back into it
as easily as striking a match
shuffling a deck of cards
placing a stamp on a postcard

[reverie,]

nobody ever brought her flowers
it was not something that crossed her mind.

until warmer days came
and she began walking paths in the woods
lined with hundreds of them.

she couldn't smell them though
desensitized to the pretty things.

the forest is her refuge
sure, the branches pulled her hair sometimes
but so did the boys she hung out with.

it came all at once
a great euphoria
like saying "i love you"
to beautiful blue eyes.

she had a wild imagination
and even when her favorite voices were gone
she could still hear them echoing
her favorite conversations;

un reverie
which was real once
and she hoped would be real again.

she knew it wouldn't happen though
so she distracted her mind with the noises in the woods
with the pretty lace robes and tops she wore
late at night while listening to scratched forty-fives;

and no matter how tightly she wrapped herself
in her white down comforter at night
she could never protect herself
or her heart.

[reverie,]

"my room smells like paint, it's romantic."
"come back."

"you're my honey"
"your kisses make me really warm"

"i think you're so beautiful, but very young"
"fix that"

"can I call you princess?"

"why are you so unattainable,"
"it's unattractive."

"come run some errands with me."

"it's not your fault."

"follow me home, baby"
"don't drive back, it's too far away."

[reverie,]

baby boy
I didn't mean to hold it against you
I just didn't know what else to do
other than tossing a note
to you on the other side
of the wall I built around me.

there was a lot of pain in every word
i've written to you
all I wanted you to say
was that you loved me back, once.

baby boy
tell your mom I loved her
and every kind word she's ever said to me.
give your dogs one last kiss for me;
thank your dad for letting me stay
through all those late nights.

I wonder how big that mattress feels
now that i'm gone
maybe you can finally sleep comfortably.

baby boy

I wonder if she's ever asked you to dance;
I wonder if she's the new light
that makes your eyes look so crystal clear.
i'm sorry for wondering so much

I just hope you realize one day
just how much I really did love you.