It is thy love for a concrete street. A haven of sorts. A home to the weeds of the garden of life. For I grow in the cracks of your floor, gaining perspective from those who have endured the process of fruition. I must survive this love of mine, for the street would be the death of me.
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 8:35 AM UTC
It is thy love for a concrete street. A haven of sorts. A home to the weeds of the garden of life. For I grow in the cracks of your floor, gaining perspective from those who have endured the process of fruition. I must survive this love of mine, for the street would be the death of me.
