I had a playlist of his name. Of songs he would send me now and then. Now every song I hear is a ghost of him. A reminder that he is here. But he is not.
Even when the blood in my veins is the same as them, every cell in my body is against becoming like them. What a curse it is to hate the very thing that birth you.
She was light. In the way she smiled, in the way kindness poured from her soul, and in the way her heart melted. If you ever looked carefully, you could see it in her eyes; a thousand storms but she stood there like the sun with a smile.
