nostalgia
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4:00 a.m. Some nights sleep doesn’t come. Tonight, this did. I missthe heavy kind of quiet. The kind that settledafter a bowl,when my body finally unclenchedand my face felt warm,like gravity had loosened its gripfor just a little while. For a few precious hours,every muscle surrendered. My thoughts stopped sprinting. The ache became a whisper.…
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There is a photograph I return to more often than I should. A boy standing in England, smiling at a pelican like he’d stumbled into a storybook. I wonder if you knew that somewhere across an ocean, a girl was waiting for your voice to tell her it was finally safe to sleep. You were…
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People say everything happens for a reason. As if reasons are enough to quiet a heart. You arrived when I was still learning that survival and living are not the same thing. I was seventeen. Sleep felt dangerous. The walls around me heard too much. The nights lasted forever. Then there was your voice, traveling…
Between Bruises and Blooms 