When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
Splatter color on your hands so the
prints
reflect who you are.
Press your thumbs into my cheek
and leave a
mark on my heart.
If I had a penny for every moment
I wished to be you
I would be a fucking millionaire.
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