• stephanie_dawn 20w


    It is not a place

    The smells
    The sounds
    The memory that lingers
    In the back of your mind
    The flutter in your chest
    The way the wind catches your hair
    The echo of voices
    Resonating throughout
    bare feet on a cloudy day
    Sand buckets and distant shadows
    Of ships on the horizon
    The quiet nights...
    That were never truly quiet
    harsh words
    And violence
    It’s survival and disgust
    But it is, and will always be