At the end of the day, the results of today don't matter that much. They aren't our core. The story is still to be written tomorrow, and will always be. Sunsets are the mothers of dawns, aren't they?
November 23, 2015
I cannot dream up the way your body will mold into mine or the way your voice will fill every empty piece of me. My imagination can’t go far enough to know what home will smell like, but I know I’ll find it buried in your embrace.