- 1 thought
- Log in to add a thought
Sometimes I think I can. Sometimes I feel the wind in my hair a breeze running through the curtains when the windows are shut. Or I’ll hear music off in the distance laughter laced in between the notes. Other times I hear the screams. I feel the frantic whispers on the back of my neck and the panic flowing through the air.
Grasping at whatever I think I see or feel or hear. Holding tight to the lives I haven't lived but wish I could. To the conversations that have gone on before me. To all of the conversations that will gone on after me.