Writing

I want to be soft. I cannot stand the harshness the world likes to subject as love. I want to be soft.

Held gently like how the sun kisses the back of the clouds. Held gently like how the wind swoons the trees.

I want to be soft.

To feel the vulnerability of one’s gentleness, the kindness of their truth. Why is it so impossible for someone to crave that genuity too?

One that isn’t artificial.

One that is soft.

I want to be soft.