death is a cold, blindfolded kiss.
it is the finger pressed upon our lips.
it puts an unwanted emphasis on how we should have lived.
life is a gorgeous, broken gift.
six billion+ pieces waiting to be fixed.
love letters that were never signed, sent to where we live.
but the sweetest thing i've ever heard is that i don't have to have the answers,
just a little light to call my own.
though it pales in comparison to the overarching shadows,
a speck of light can reignite the sun and swallow darkness whole.