walls that breathe
A line tattooed
when I die, I want it to be perfect. Nestled deep into my linens,
with huge white fluffed up pillows that caress my neck when it slowly goes stiff.
Vintage paper holding the room together with patterns on the wall that breathe timelessness into the time that’s left.
Shadows on the ceiling creep the essence of dim candle-lit peach, widows in the corners peek, in a tasteful prose, they weep.
Portraits of framed people that went before me wait to welcome me.
And of course, a Siamese or perhaps some quiet living thing, seated bedside. Frog and Toad that escort me to the yellow brick road.
I desire to use all my senses before I go.
I close my eyes, and take a final sip of water that may possibly turn to wine, when I reach the other side,
And pucker my lips.
About the Creator
Natasha Collazo
Selected Writer in Residency, Champagne France ---2026
The Diary of an emo Latina OUT NOW
https://a.co/d/0jYT7RR
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Poetry Workshop
Previously, I published my first ever exclusive story on Vocal. If you’ve subscribed to my work, then you have access to it. Thank YOU for your support. I hope to make each read worth your while. So with that, I’ll be posting insights for exclusive readers only, such as a workshop on my craft. The hows and who’s of my stories. Pretty much revealing my secrets on how I write with you. So welcome fam, and let’s get started!
By Natasha CollazoExclusive • about a year ago
Comments (9)
Gorgeous, lively & unique! 🌸🫶🏾
Nice! Well written ❤️
very beautfully done
Oooo, this was so beautiful! Loved it so much!
This is like sitting in the rain watching a rainbow develop
Dark but beautifuly expressed
Beautifully expressed. I especially love your chosen "tattoo-ables".
Beautiful and serene poem and the italicised line would make for a stunning tattoo!
This was such a lovely read. I especially liked the part of the quiet living things seated bedside. 💕