I arrive.
In the depth of an ocean they come closer
their pearls spill on my face their neck covers me
The smell
I am reminded of air.
I am a distortion of nature.
I move around the solids. I look for cracks
I sleep.
…cracks to fill, but hard to find…
Until someone takes my hand.
The spirals in their eyes, on skins, on paper, inside the moon
Insecurities are broken by whoever dares to be insecure first.
I come out.
I am more machine than animal.
I materialize.
What is the relation between trauma and kindness? Are there different types of crying?
When I materialize, it is finally not about me.
/plsm
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