My heart

Come You, my heart want to feel like summer, come sun, come saltwater and seashells and beating hearts. You, with the gentle kindness, a slight breeze, energy and warm feeling like, home. You who would make me feel like summer, inside. —Where are you?

My heart lies there like a rock on the seabed waiting for someone to pick it up.

I like to find the gentle touch and smell of violets, at the same time a rocksolid gaze that could cut through my counsiouness like pieces of glass. Breathe. Under water.

Publicerad av Cizzi Grönkvist

Normkritik, retro, vintage, teater, design, politik och skrivande. Feminist med anlag för sarkastisk humor.


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