Jul 14, 2018
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @yvvytalks / @mintyxtea ♥♥♥
She runs until she can’t smell the blooming iris-beds of her father’s garden, until she can forget the way they looked at her and only saw her long-gone mother: witch, they whispered, until one day, they were right. Runs until the saltwater and sun begin to bleach her hair, until the breeze doesn’t sting against her bloodied knuckles, until the weight of her cutlass doesn’t make her pause.
Runs until no one knows her name, until she calls herself Logan, until she can hear Sage without freezing up.
Runs until the power in her hands is something she can bury inside herself, locked away, hidden in the ruins of her rib cage.
