Forgotten God

Wanderlust is having that voice in the back of my head telling me “we have to go somewhere, we have to move” and it just gets louder

- He is sitting on a rock, looking out to the ocean. The coffee in his hand is cold, but his eyes are warm, longing to be in the heavens again.

- Her black backpack is heavy, but not as heavy as her wings used to be. Her cigarette is almost finished. Silently, she waits for the train.

- You can find them covered under ten pastel pink blankets, yesterday’s make up still smudged on their face. They don’t want to go back.

- She crumbles up the paper and throws it into the garbage can. No pencil will ever be able to recreate what her home truly looked like. Her headphones blast loud music that reminds her of angels singing.

- Unable to find rest he searches through every library in hope to find his name again. He wants to remember, but he barely feels his halo anymore.