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It took a long time for me to consider myself a writer. I still struggle with saying it. I started writing at a young age to work through feelings I didn’t dare tell anyone. I learned that once you start writing, it becomes a part of you. It’s something you always go back to whenever you are overwhelmed with certain emotions. People don’t always listen to your words, but the paper always listens to the pen.

september is a promise.

september is a promise.

september is a promise that smells like wisdom and woodsmoke close your eyes and breathe it in september is a revival drifting through harvest skies sapphire stained in umber and walnut and ginger spice and i am in love with the way the earth keeps teaching me that we...

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ashes to dust.

ashes to dust.

the darkness bloomed within the tomb devouring the day the past reaching out from the shadows stealing life’s light so eden sank to grief swallowed up by memories while the ghosts rose speakingin secrets in tongues in whispers that fell like leaves into the abyss and...

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stream into river into ocean.

stream into river into ocean.

mountain streams feed into a hungry river where dusk paints its glow—kawakaari the surface splattered in amber and aquamarine cherry blossoms bloom in quiet rebellion whispering their confessions in falling pink petals swallowed by the current while flower gardens...

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the element of air.

the element of air.

wild wisps of wind. heat-seeking breeze. sirroco. samoon. shamal. the way it smells. the way those smells carry memories. ocean waves or fields of flowers or fresh-baked bread. grandmother’s kitchen in the spring with the doors open and pie on the windowsill. the...

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impermanence.

impermanence.

night strolls towards day crawling inch by slow inch until amaranth blooms across the black because not even the dark plays for keeps love propels us to the moonlight but we are icarus when the sun rises we shake the embers wash off the soot until only the smell of...

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yuletide sunrise.

yuletide sunrise.

yawning skies stretch, and underneath the blankets of clouds, a lazy sun rises over snow crested peaks eager light reaching for tired eyes and cold bodies, illuminating darkened window panes and dripping down tree limbs until every surface is bathed in warmth - ashley...

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