Apr 11, 2022
2 min read
Beyond the Horizon
I seem happy because my writing is sad
It gets so quiet, I want to be held… even if it hurts. Even when it stings. Wrap me in the whispers of the most gentle tendrils of the jet stream. Even if it’s cold. Even if it draws the goosebumps out of my past and onto my tattooed skin. Teach me to love the skin I’m in.
