CLEANSING COMES THROUGH SALT WATER by theyofgoodfaith
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Wanton, wanting – the flush of my cheeks comes from the flight and exertion of running, lips parted as my hand is outstretched towards the dying sun. The sun looks on as the light kisses Icarus’ wings with saltwater lips and we breathe it in. The clouds in our lungs and the oceans in our blood and we burn. Fingertips on fire as we breathe in the ash. Our insides sear and there is a world that pushes down on our shoulders. Or is it keeping us safely on the ground?


















