CLEAN

I had a dream I was beautiful.

To a touch where the world understood be at most, where trickling words whistled by the earth only to nervously pick apart the several entities restored inside me. 

A beacon of imagery. Perhaps a taste test to my new life. It turned to a lovely turmoil in an escape, for leisure, and for love at best. 

I remembered to be quiet when taken aback, to stay nice to the old me that couldn't fiend for herself. When I would look back there and all I saw was a lost promise. To finding myself in the language of love. 

To staying dirty. To doing amazing things with my hands. In a world of chaos.