by the time I met him
I was so used to
kissing my own wounds
that I started to kiss his
without a second
thought.
infusing poetry into the mundane
infusing poetry into the mundane
by the time I met him
I was so used to
kissing my own wounds
that I started to kiss his
without a second
thought.
A.P. Bastian 
Idk who you are or where you come from and I don’t stalk you on social media (again my natural inclinations)…
But I’ve loved every single post of yours since I found your blog.
Your writing is so beautiful and your words just speak to me so intimately.
So thank you… For existing, for writing. Please, don’t stop.
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Just thought you should know…
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Wow, I can’t even begin to tell you how touching this is to me. I’ve been working on a book for the last 2.5 years about my experience with grief but have had such a hard time siting down to finish it the last couple of months. Really, it’s just a matter of editing now, but there’s this voice in the back of my head that questions whether anyone would even want to read it. But who cares about that? I just need my words to reach people like you. Reading your comment made my day. Thank you for seeing me between all these letters. Thank you for encouraging me to never give up on my first love. Thank you for being you and for taking a moment to share so much kindness. I hope it’s returned to you tenfold.
And I will never stop writing. Pinky promise.
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Ohmygoodness! I hope I get to read it when it’s done. x
❤❤❤
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