thank you mother, for uprooting my life for your own convenience.
i have bookshelves of dreams. all dying to be the one i choose to live out.
i am always short on words when i feel immensely.
i find space to heal in the margins, in quiet afternoons, and in hugs from people i love.
if you hurt me, i’ll walk away as easy as i walked in.
we’re tied together eternally by a single day. happy birthday baby. happy birthday to me.
death’s hand fits so perfectly in my palm. no wonder my mind is attacking me.
if i had a dollar for every stolen glance we’ve shared i believe id be a multi millionaire.
i was not given everything i asked for as a child. and that made me a good person as an adult.