I have been here before, I swear.
Wearing this stubborn heart on my sleeve and handing out my soul on a golden platter; an offering.
I catch a whiff of a scent in the air, pulling me back to a place I thought I would never revisit; vulnerability.
Then I feel, rather than hear, him come up from behind me. For a moment time seems to freeze and my bones tremble under his touch. I see, rather than hear, my name leave his lips and I look into his eyes, and I remember.
I am now back here, optimism for a heart stitched onto my sleeve and my soul on a golden platter; an offering.
1 comment
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