k.h.l.
Every morning, I wake up early, and take a long time getting ready to exist. —Fernando Pessoa /// edited
salty nights, bitter days
Every night, I go to the ocean.
The waves are still and the air is quiet,
But the water is almost warm on my face,
And I’ve gotten used to the smell;
Of sharp, stinging sea salt.
Like the mineral taste of candy on my tongue.
Every night, I go to the ocean;
Every night, I cry myself to sleep.
