On ceasefire nights, where love is disconcerting and there were no words to weave into myself, I learned to listen to your memory And the spaces filled with percussive kindness. In the summer, I made the time cold. In the winter, I am learning how to thaw.
Habit of Light
Habit of Light
Habit of Light
On ceasefire nights, where love is disconcerting and there were no words to weave into myself, I learned to listen to your memory And the spaces filled with percussive kindness. In the summer, I made the time cold. In the winter, I am learning how to thaw.