ramblings – Page 4 – naomi tercero

petrichor

The moon descends and sits where she once lay so close, rocking to sleep, I, like sand so

we are still children there is a certain beauty in it but there is also a certain danger to it we’re told to

The overwhelming nostalgia of broken bones. Thinking we were rebels, all too ready to

Knowledge is a tricky thing. You don’t seem to forget it, unlike misplacing your pen

How do the stars communicate? Do they have a secret language? How do they know

I am from the number three, from hand-carved toy chests and knots of computer cables