(no subject)
I only want to read the writers who look through brick walls.
They found something that day, and it had been moored to them all along. They called it love because love was the softest sound they could say. When the first person said love, they were silenced whole minutes just feeling its thick softness in their throats, just feeling sated.
I wish you could hear me say these words, because when I say them they are true. Words move through heart and throat and lips, and their quietest sound is the roar of oceans when you hear it.
They found something that day, and it had been moored to them all along. They called it love because love was the softest sound they could say. When the first person said love, they were silenced whole minutes just feeling its thick softness in their throats, just feeling sated.
I wish you could hear me say these words, because when I say them they are true. Words move through heart and throat and lips, and their quietest sound is the roar of oceans when you hear it.