Words spill from my fingertips and drain through paper. I wonder if this ritual can heal me. I’m starting to dig at old scars. Breaking them back open to feel closer to the things I miss, even if it hurts. Sunsets are as beautiful as you make them and I long for the moon too much to ever appreciate such a thing. That’s where I live. That’s where I sink my teeth. That’s where I learned how to bite back. Cool air hits my cheeks and I feel the sting- I’m not crying, I promise. I remember everything and yearn for the feeling of innocence before the world kissed its knuckles. I’m the reaching hand in an empty space. I’m the thought behind the decision and I dig my roots into your brain like a compass rose. I’m the whole fucking scene. I’m still seventeen and brave. I’m nothing without the broken words you digest and wonder why you feel so fucking sick. So let me remind the world how graceful I can crash. Sew my wounds with a thread and make it look like latticework. Watch me heal over and over and over again until I perfect the art. Until I write the entire book and set it on fire. Until I mend these wounds to my liking. -AMT ©️