what follows after the storm
is tenderness
something so soft, so fragile
it’s near impossibility to try and hold onto
the grasp must be loosened and the strings untied
love must escape
and past felonies must wither away like scars,
deep-rooted, but old enough to warrant accumulation of fresh skin
over tired hearts and defeated eyes,
aged with a continual stream of regrets
what follows the storm is quietness
life renewed, but humble and subdued,
something you can find buried in the cracks under the soles of your feet,
perhaps in between the ruffles of an anniversary chiffon dress,
in the glint of a single pearl resting on your neck,
or maybe beneath the smile of a wrinkled eye, shaded by a lock of silver satin hair.
yay you’re back!
love it <3.