Let the wind air out crevices where you’ve hidden your true desires from the world. Let it blow on the wounds inflicted by years of patriarchy and racism, Dear Black Sister, like a mother would blow on the scraped knee of her toddler. Let the gale forces propel your reluctant body…
Dreamer | Quintessential Believer | Lover of the inconsistencies of beauty |
The quick left off the mainstream highway that leads to the dusty road between the strength of iron and angelic innocence.
And no, I'm not cool enough to want to see the world burn, or to close off all emotion, or to hate love.