She wasn’t what she seemed, she was that place where dreams went when they required a key, far away, yet, beneath a gentle touch amidst her heart’s glow, transformed, wrapped in the velvet of her soul. She’d become what she dreamed, in that place where her true self thrived and life had meaning, so close, yet, not impossible to find amidst the honesty within, and longing, wrapped in the velvet of her soul. ©January 2021 Christina Anne Hawthorne
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I'm not insane, I'm a writer.
Christina Anne Hawthorne 