DESCRIPTION
There is a boy who smells of rosehips
who has taken root in my soul.
Sometimes he looks at me like he knows.
Some days he comes to me with a knife to cut it out.
But some days-- some rare, confusing, precious days--
his hand trembles.
On those days I want to grab that trembling hand and pull him close,
into the vast, golden-warm shade of what has flourished inside me.
It's all I can think about.
(I think about how they were before they got together a lot 💔)