pretty little things from 05.09.25

shall i compare thee to a summer's day?

May 09, 2025

i’ve always loved writing lyrics, but never thought i was very good at writing proper poetry. i spent this week playing around with a little more prose ‘just to see what happens’ and i think i might be onto something. i find it hard to create things that i don’t ‘hate’ or that don’t make me ‘feel cringe’—but then i remembered: if you want to create good art, you must first create cringe. so, here we are ツ

speaking of lyric-writing—i released an album earlier this year, called speedrunning love. it’s available wherever you stream music 🎧

horizon line actually started out as a poem but i decided to make it into a song at the last minute—it has since become one of my favorite tracks.

had Shakespeare on my mind a lot this week—

Sonnet 18 is one of my favorite poems:

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Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

i couldn’t resist writing the millennial translation 🌹

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Shall I compare you to a summer’s day?
Well—no. You’re softer than that. Gentler.
Summer can be unruly—too hot, too brief,
its winds shake the young petals from their stems,
and its golden light dims far too soon.

Everything lovely in this world fades—
beauty caught in the teeth of time or chance.
But not you.

Your “eternal summer” won’t vanish,
your light won’t go out,
and Death himself can’t claim you,
because you’ve been stitched into these lines—
these words.
So long as breath is drawn, and eyes can read,
you’ll live.

This may contain: two gummy bears sitting next to each other on a white background with the same color

this week tasted like strawberries left too long in the sun—warm, a little overripe, but utterly irresistible. everything is buzzing and blooming. your own reflection catching you off guard in the soft golden light—you look like someone who is adored.

there’s nostalgia in the air, but not the sad kind. the kind that wraps around you like a linen sheet—memories of sidewalk chalk, first kisses, long drives with someone you might kiss soon. the scent of sunscreen and eucalyptus shampoo. a book abandoned in the grass because the moment was too good to read through.

being in your lover era isn’t about having someone—it’s about being someone. someone who romanticizes their morning coffee. who buys flowers just because. who feels their pulse rise for no reason other than the way light hits a glass of cold water.

you’re not waiting for love—you’re wearing it. loosely, like a scarf in the wind. 🍓