top of page

Portland, Oregon. Falling in love with the art of everything.

  • Writer's pictureRachel Sandstrom Morrison

warm breath like smoke in the night sky

eager for the crisp chill of fall to settle into my bones.

my body's at home in the dark seasons,

as if i've been bred for long nights and long conversations with the moon and stars,

alone in an ocean of quiet.


it's peaceful here,

quiet.

and i'm finally content--

no longer hiding from the oppressive heat of summer

or

seeking refuge in stale artificial air.


in this season I embrace contradiction--

dichotomies of hot and cold more comfortable within me.


Steamy tea and cold hands, warm blankets and frozen noses, connection and loneliness

there's space for it all here

to exist peacefully,

non judgmentally,

quietly.


Warm breath like smoke in the night sky.

Recent Posts

See All

moths to a flame.

they say for women we forget some of our deepest pain and that must be true because it feels like i have amnesia when it comes to you never remembering the recurring heartbreak until it's impending, d

let me nestle in the space under your collarbones

i'd crawl underneath your skin, nestle in the space underneath your collarbone or snugly between your ribs watching your heart beat hoping to understand you better i'd see the world through your eyes

love at 20.

closer pull me in closer crush me with the weight of your expectations my expectations the roles we're supposed to play but forget that now pull me in fall faster deeper let me feel the fullness of yo

bottom of page