“

WE START WITH A FOUR YR OLD GIRL IN LOVE WITH ALL THINGS INNOCENT & VOLATILE

she was born during a storm that lodged itself behind her ribcage, fear and recklessness were things she would never have to be taught

she learnt the human craving to hurt & be hurt in the schoolyard revolution

temptation came through unblinking eyes & flickering screens & imagination

caution was hard; she had to unlearn invincibility first. when it came it was fire, & an intimate knowledge of ruin

death was the heat of summer, just as it always has been, that lazy feet-scorched-self-destructing-ever-present dread

love was a punch to the gut. or maybe that was hate. or both. that one-two in the dead of winter where night means so much more

she learnt repentance on her unbending knees

& the sea has taught her to dance

IN THE END WE ARE LEFT WITH A SIXTEEN YR OLD GIRL AND THE SOBERING FACT THAT SHE FEELS MOST AT HOME IN A GRAVEYARD

”

STORMS or HOW NOT TO GROW UP, Sophia Anderson (via jailsongs)

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