tread softly

“Perhaps some day I'll crawl back home, beaten, defeated. But not as long as I can make stories out of my heartbreak, beauty out of sorrow." - Sylvia Plath

I'm sorry to whichever man should meet my sorry state

Remember me the way you knew me best

I fought against the current for so long, I forgot how good it can feel to relax one's limbs and drift; it's as though life is dissolving on the tip of my tongue, like a cube of sugar in a hot cup of tea.