the wind is whistling louder than before… i listen
my heart is still heavy
i am always cold
the trees are skeletons and i smile at the irony of my similar heart:
bones of protection around something somehow still beating…
pushing me onward to something
We’re reeling through an endless fall
We are the ever-living ghost of what once was
has a different kind of air… and it’s not just the saltiness.
there’s a freedom in the air.
almost like magic.
and i’m pretty sure the whole world slows down…
and what’s funny to me –
is that i rarely notice it
until i’m gone.
like a square peg
in a round hole
to my best friend:
you can see the rest of her birthday pictures (that i may or may not have insisted upon taking) here <3