Beneath the Brush
Freezing in what feels right
The place, the only place where one is truly themselves and can only hear their thoughts
Leaves fall and make my bed
A second home, where I feel at home
I am neither judged or stressed
I do not conform or change my desires
It is cold but my body is warm
The past withers like dust as I try my best to preserve it
Never have I felt so alone
But I love it.
People walk past me, but I do not see them
I don’t want to be seen
Never have I felt this warm
