houses between stars
there’s something in the air again—
not loud but coaxing. a hum beneath the skin, like a soft static or a compress twitching somewhere behind the ribs.
a crossroad, maybe, though none of the signs say so.
just the wind changing languages, just the moon tilting her head differently.
i could stay, you know— tucked into the known ache of old comforts and familiar scents. i‘ve worn this life like silk gone threadbare in the corners.
and maybe that’s why i can’t settle.. why i try on names and dreams like dresses that almost fit but never feel fit enough. why every idea of life feels true until it doesn’t. until i outgrow it in my sleep.
but something is brewing.
not new, just ripened.
i keep waking in the middle of sentences i haven’t spoken yet. i keep catching glimpses of what’s becoming.
not afraid of trembling, i‘ll pack it with me.
— Lux
