we still share our breath with the beasts but at a different pace.
meet me in the early morning grass and we'll wrestle our fears and how much they mean..cotton and linens that rustle over your skin. your cheek softly pressing against the willow. and i won't speak. i will let you sleep. to be the blanket that cradles your neck. and the warm voice that gently shakes you out of bed in the solid gray night. so you can watch the little foxes come dancing from their burrows beneath the borrowed moonlight. and i'll be the dresser where you keep your secrets wrapped in brown paper. the steady finger you wrap string around to help you not forget. and when you leave the candles lit and the wax runs into the corners of my lips. i will let you sleep. because you remind me of something far more holy that i was never worthy of. sometimes all we ever want is honest. and we may be the children that play in the thrush patch despite it's harsh sting. but my eighteenth century beauty. we are free.
writing playlist. furtherseemsforever. death cab for cutie. postal service. enya. alexisonfire.