Golden brown, your voice poured over me like honey dragged slow across a wound, and I, the lamb, drifted with the tide of your hands. No need to fight, no need to flee when the sun in your eyes was the closest to Heaven I’d ever be. I gave up forever to touch you, » Continue Reading
Before they came, I was only wind on stone, snow in the creases of my skin, and roots clinging like prayers to the dark. I have watched the wolf before. He is older than the frost, » Continue Reading
I came down from the mountain, not because I hungered— but because I could. The farm lay soft before me, bleating with small white dreams that did not yet know what teeth were for. » Continue Reading
The mountains were teeth, jagged and white beneath a sky that never forgave, and I was only wool and breath, a shivering hymn left in the cold. They told me, trust nothing except the sheep. » Continue Reading
In the hush before dawn, when the world is asleep and the streetlights flicker like thoughts I forgot to chase, I sit — not quite dreaming, not quite awake. This is the hour when memories feel like ghosts, and future plans dress themselves up like lullabies. I breathe in stillness. I exhale the weight of growing up. It’s late — 3:0 » Continue Reading
I am so happy and so tired — two small children curled in my ribs, holding hands as I drift off into the gentle dark. Tonight I wish to close my eyes and open them as a child again, safe in my mother’s arms, » Continue Reading
I love the moon like a secret garden loves the rain — softly, all at once, without asking why. I love the way she scatters her bones across the river, a silver reflection trembling » Continue Reading
Tonight I untangle my hair and let the night comb through the knots — stars snag on my shoulders, wind kisses my throat, and I swear the moon hums my name like she’s always known me. » Continue Reading
"You don’t see me, but I glow." Tonight the sky is velvet and humming, stitched together by the gentle fingers of wind. The moon slips through my window like an old lover — uninvited, but I never turn her away. She brings with her a choir of quiet guitars, the » Continue Reading
Some nights, when the world goes quiet enough, I swear I can hear the moon hum. It’s not a sound you catch with your ears but with the softest parts of your soul — a lullaby woven from starlight and drifting clouds. A secret hymn that drips like silver honey into the hollow places inside your chest, filling every echo with warmth. Watching that video felt lik » Continue Reading
Little Sparrow, light blue linen there you perch in my ribcage, trembling, you flit among wild honeysuckle mornings and brush my sleep-heavy eyelashes with dawn. In this fabric of light blue linen, I bury my f » Continue Reading