dream on repeat

          I’m 16 I smell of Love’s Baby Soft and everything is pink and fresh and romantic like a love letter            

testing the waters

        seems fitting spring begins here the origin of life          

metaphor

      I once suggested she have a good cry she said “I’m afraid if I start I’ll never be able to stop”        

little fires

        sometimes I’m quick to snuff it out sometimes I let it burn but there’s always that ash sticking to the soles of my shoes the gritty tracks follow me for days      

sacred space