Writing

Love will not heal me.

I will always be a girl of many scars.

But love can teach me to forgive.

Love can give me many reasons for why I should live.

It can even change me, for better or for worse.

After they arrived at the train station in the middle of nowhere, getting off of the bus was an awful drag. It was sluggish, slow, and the fleeting flocks of people turned into deep, hurling crowds.

I wake up this morning.

Take me to the Karakoram Road, I beg—

Where the mountains meet the rivers, 

Entwined with the pathways of cracked cement

The rooster's call—piercing through the veil of dawn—
Pulling me from the depths of sleep, eyes heavy.
Its cry rises into the soft light of morning,
Where the sun slowly stains the sky in shades of red,

Sam and Willa lay on their backs in the overgrown grass of his yard, her describing the shape of the clouds for him to paint as a picture in his head.