Somewhere under the wreckage of mirrors,
beneath the landfill of discarded skin,
there’s a girl who still knows how to blush.
She’s small as a sparrow’s heartbeat,
but she’s there.

I press my ear to the earth of myself,
listen for her.
She’s singing something that isn’t a dirge.
She’s planting dandelions in the cracks.

Wait—

Wait.

Maybe the dandelions are weeds.
Maybe they’re the only thing
strong enough to split me open
and let the light in.

#HID

《 Nyx Thinks 》

Somewhere under the wreckage of mirrors,
beneath the landfill of discarded skin,
there’s a girl who still knows how to blush.
She’s small as a sparrow’s heartbeat,
but she’s there.

I press my ear to the earth of myself,
listen for her.
She’s singing something that isn’t a dirge.
She’s planting dandelions in the cracks.

Wait—

Wait.

Maybe the dandelions are weeds.
Maybe they’re the only thing
strong enough to split me open
and let the light in.

#HID

hottg.com/Nyx_thinks/629

2.7K viewsMay 24 at 07:20