It's more than just a need for touch when it's cold outside; it's a need to feel you, to be felt by you, to be understood by you, to stay up late at night poking holes in our souls to expose secrets the world is far from familiar with.
It's about opening up without the breaking of skin. It's about stitching up the damage history has caused us without sowing kits. Heartache has pointed edges, but it's about forgetting the fear of sharp objects and connecting the fabric of our souls together, entwining our cold fingers until we feel it in our spirits, squeezing until we loose blood circulation in our hands and then squeezing some more.
It's about not feeling the pains and anxieties we've carried, anymore. It's about breaking the walls that safeguard our castle hearts without feeling broken or broken into: I let you in, and you let me in. Yet it's also about learning the decency to politely knock before stepping foot into each other's kingdom, because others have broken down the doors and set our insides on fire.
See, I've been buried alive and barely alive since I was barely alive, but I'm very alive now.
All it took was a knock at the door.
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My books are all available from the link in my bio! Love and light.
baby, I'm hanging by the hinges of this summer breath,
hopping that you will remember me,
our memories are our monuments,
your smile is my greatest memory,
your love is the greatest thing that I ever known,
and on this summer day,
I embrace the sunbeams,
and I miss you...
You do not know what it means to be a poet
if you never gazed at the sky aimlessly
in broad daylight, smiling at the clouds
or sometimes looking for potholes
where the stars remain temporarily cremated
You do not know what it means to be a poet:
if you haven't thought of squashing clouds into mud
to prepare chocolate ganachè,
if you haven't wondered how they might taste plain-
cotton candy or buttercream?