If I could only teach the world to feel my blood on their skin, in their eyes, on their lips. All of these melting emotions trying to seep out of every pore and pull me out of one heated tuft of fury I should know.
Oh, how I long for those days to be her: the girl who is true and shining, lifted up by the dreams of her childhood and the hopes for the future. Her bright lights send out wide open signals to the skies of the morning
Her heart wakens to the sounds of pitter pats, rhythms, and working hard to play the songs of the ages and sound out the focus of what is what and where we go when emotions move to make the changes out of nothing or something, together and complete.
She knows. She has known the colors shaping her soul, it’s her ears that keep ringing and her tongue that keeps drying out to lay it all on the line.
I wish I had touched the pen sooner. Have you met the paper?
The two have been waiting to tell you all you need to know.