April is for indecisive clouds and letters to the past, for discarding those imaginary eggshells I’ve been walking on and opening windows, even if I let the moths in. I am kindling the flame in my little lighthouse so that you can see me, safe from the deck of your passing ship. Call me whatever …
Tag Archives: writing
I’m very flower-like. I love classical music. I go to ballet and I cry. There’s nothing so beautiful. Michael Gambon (via seabois)
I desperately need to put this memo in a place where I can see it everyday.
We’ve all been here before.