her ghost

@justasilvia2.bsky.social

𝘊𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘦

𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴

The clouds scrawl their philosophy across a purple morn they preach of softness, and of moving slow and calm. While I rush and trip. This jagged, prickly thing I am— always anxious over something. I try to be more like the clouds, breezing by but the closest I get is when I cry. #sensewrds 267