a part of my heart will always miss the time when the world was still something i could hold—when i could still reach the ends of my life and grasp it with my bare hands. i think my palms are slowly forgetting how it felt once, trembling at the thought that they might never touch anything like that again.
Apr 7, 2025
Apr 7, 2025 at 10:53 AM UTC
a part of my heart will always miss the time when the world was still something i could hold—when i could still reach the ends of my life and grasp it with my bare hands. i think my palms are slowly forgetting how it felt once, trembling at the thought that they might never touch anything like that again.
