littleworries

I don’t think I can. 

We are mostly wandering clear of one fallen tree to find another to climb up and in. 

We spend great long days outside. With them, waiting for them, hiding from them. Mostly hiding with them but I am never sure how healthy that is, staring down at your new shadow, hips pressed, growing out of and into each other, arms and hair all twist and clutch. 

There is dust all on us. We leave it for a time, each time, and not only because it is polite but also because it (that new thing) is reals and trues and loves. 

We have only ever been glass and we always forget it. And bits of us always get snapped off and we don’t know how to grow them back so we find another person with a bit that might just fit. 

This is a bad sad answer.