I’ve built myself a closet. I didn’t really notice… I just, sort of, found myself here. Sitting on the floor and looking at the walls. They are painted nicely, the way that I would imagine the inside of my world would be painted. When I look down at my hands… they aren’t there.
Poetry closet, dearmamarose, freedom, lgbtq, lgbtqia, love, mamarose, poem, poetry, poly, polyamorous, queer, secret, self-expression, self-love 0