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ㅤㅤ𖥔 ﹙🕸️ᵎ﹚🕷️ ─┈ 𑁍ʾ Every poem lately sings the joy of not recognizing my own life – Every day a new adjustment, like the sun and the moon on the horizon as something new, ever changing, yet ever eternally constant and all the better for it. We all need someone with whom we can be one hundred percent us. Somebody that quietly understands us. Someone who we can find shelter in their arms when the world is too much. Someone you can speak with in the language of silences. Someone whose heart is ready to accept you in whatever shape or form you come, bloody or pristine, happy or in tears, a place of peace and renewal. ༘♡ ⋆ Moving, talking, learning; holding the hands of my friends over places that feel unfamiliar to me, and their smiles beaming back, saying, this is where your happiness has been living. Today, I felt it warm in my stomach. Yesterday, it was electricity in the soles of my running shoes. A bliss that changes shape, and I’m paying better attention now. ☽⋮ ⊹
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ㅤㅤ𖥔 ﹙🕸️ᵎ﹚🕷️ ─┈ 𑁍ʾ Every poem lately sings the joy of not recognizing my own life – Every day a new adjustment, like the sun and the moon on the horizon as something new, ever changing, yet ever eternally constant and all the better for it. We all need someone with whom we can be one hundred percent us. Somebody that quietly understands us. Someone who we can find shelter in their arms when the world is too much. Someone you can speak with in the language of silences. Someone whose heart is ready to accept you in whatever shape or form you come, bloody or pristine, happy or in tears, a place of peace and renewal. ༘♡ ⋆ Moving, talking, learning; holding the hands of my friends over places that feel unfamiliar to me, and their smiles beaming back, saying, this is where your happiness has been living. Today, I felt it warm in my stomach. Yesterday, it was electricity in the soles of my running shoes. A bliss that changes shape, and I’m paying better attention now. ☽⋮ ⊹
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