Reem S.

When I think about what you perceive when you look at me, I get the inextricable urge to morph into something new, maybe into everything that I’m not -

into the sound of the bellowing creek by the stark trees you seek refuge in, or into the smell of the spring breeze that crescendos in the midnight air.

I want to mold myself into someone who can hold the sky for you with all the constellations in your eyes, and the annihilating moon that reaps from you.

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