these eyes remind me that the most beautiful people, the very ones who allow me believe in life again and again, have all suffered deeply one way or another. their expressions are of understanding, of purity. they’re eyes that whisper, “i don’t need to know your past to walk beside you.” these people walk through walls with a core of fire and a heart of gold.
how many times must i arrive at this destination until i can find my journey? or is the secret to recognize that the passengers are happy sleeping, that perhaps if i steer through the rhythm of my heart, we will safely land. what if they 