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I'm moving to a place where no one knows me. I will start over and I will paint, write and grow a garden that blooms white roses.
I will buy a small house that has been built ages ago and have no intention of redecorating it. I will be blessed with having the sea as my front-door neighbor.
I will hear him when he gets angry and when he's calm. I will never, ever get tired of both sounds.
I will spend my mornings sipping dark coffee and talking to grumpy old people. I will ask them what they did when they were my age, and their answer, my friend, is fascinating.
My Sundays will consist of grocery shopping with my dog in tow and reading the first chapter of every good book I find in the secondhand bookstore.
I will be happy. And guess what? I don't have any plans of coming back.
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YOU ARE READING
Pale Soul Sea (#Wattys2018)
PoetryHe would chip away at my cold exterior dodging shards of ice until I was no longer hard, but even though he cracked through the surface. . . My heart would not melt.
