hazed;

Sometimes I can see the little flecks of hazel dancing through your irises, almost like someone deliberately sprinkled sawdust there. It makes me think of the melted toffee candies we hid in the sparrow’s nests that one summer day, when our only worry in the entire world was the stickiness of our fingers and the beating heat on our small backs.
But that was so long ago, and I have to remind myself that we are not children anymore, that we cannot lay claim to each other’s hearts in sweet meadows and morning sunshine, because the earth is not like that anymore, at all.





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