March 31st;

My birthday sprang like wild flowers, rushed and froze by mother earth. I am embracing the worn edges of my youth. You said it didn’t matter, your words we’re sweet but cold. I can’t even collect my thoughts, so effortlessly I used to. I wake with a fright, in the middle of the night. My thoughts are heavy like dew. I dreamed a river ran wild (my heart did, too). I consider such thoughts a heightened concept of confused emotion. My journey begins tomorrow, I’m in search for something new.

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