I lie in wait for space. A space of my own where quiet ambiance roams
Jasmine and mint steep in time growing lax on a warm sunlit spot on the floor my book groaning at me to read it, just a little more.
something deeper than self-care a little something of self-healing
I wait for you. My mysterious being, although I doubt you exist I feel myself losing it all in the rift of these futile wounds and these nights of sunlit tunes