journal eight.

I’ve stopped closing my curtains at night.

And in the morning, I wake up to bright light, but it’s not harsh. It’s fresh, delicate and deliberate, touching all the sins of the past night away.

Anew.

A bird takes a dive from the rooftop across my fire escape but in the next second, swoops up, and I see her fly past the buildings farther away. She’s brought friends.

I’ve stopped closing my curtains at night.

And it’s still, waking up at dawn. It fills me near whole in all the best ways.