Perhaps, tonight, the stars are misaligned.

And yet when I wake I think of that sunset.

If only words weren't lost to silence.

There is so much that I want to say.

Lately and often I think of the smell of rain and fragile blossoms turning toward the sun for life, of mingling breaths and souls and bright eyes behind a prison of lashes. Of a beating heart in my hands and words upon my skin and every single thing that is simple and honest. Of trees painfully bare as the sky falls and settles upon the earth as ( Read more... )

I don't know what to do.