
Below the rubble, I can only move my fingers.
Below the rubble, I am dust in sunlight.
Below the rubble, rocks crush my chest.
Below the rubble, I remember when we could hold on.
Below the rubble, our fingers touch.
I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.
1 comment:
...and somehow below the rubble, it feels like home.
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