The evening and night skies have been a Pantone book of color as of late due to weather phenomenon and celestial alignments. Every tone of blue, bonfire and smoke. Rarities like us. I feel like a moth with tattered edges circling a blue-eyed votive flame. Nature may be stroking the sky with her best but when words set me ablaze into a shade that rivals hers and the color of my hair like no other? This is ritual in its most alchemically visceral form. There’s beauty in Our dance.
The longing.
The act.
The ache.
And the burn.


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