Maybe when we’re born God tattoos pretty poetry onto our souls with invisible ink. Maybe He chooses a few special people with eyes that can see past our clothes and skin and carefully-constructed barriers. Maybe our souls aren’t meant to be seen naked by everybody, but only by a select few. And maybe that’s why it feels so lovely when another person hears our soul as it whispers sonnets and haikus and lullabies into the world, begging only to be understood.
Z.M. (via wnq-writers)
















