“Need” is a word that rests heavy on her tongue 

But if she must use it, it is to describe the things that run through her veins 

The insanity she needs, like an addict needs their fix 

The chaos she craves so she doesn’t have to question where she fits

And the motion of the leaves,

The blood of trees on which she relies most 

To carry past thoughts to the wind 

And catch new ones in the night

like fireflies 

Photographer: Rondell Melling

13 thoughts on “Fireflies”

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