Author Information
Untittled
I am not an elegant person.
I am not a Sunday morning praising the lord or a Friday Sunset kissing someone's lips
I am tears muffled by purple pillow cases. I am a broken wishing well filled with un-reached dreams; I've learned that wishing only wounds the heart
My bones crack on a daily basis.
I fall from beauty with a dull thud and I apologize for my awkward sadness
I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days on the calendar.
You know the way the light and darkness blend?
It blends beautifully under my skin.
It has become a storm. You don't see the lightening, but if you listen, you can hear the echoes of who I am.
