It matters not. The turbulence you have seen. Happiness that has gone to rot. You are the newness that grows in the place of the old. Like wet honey dripping off the comb. Too fresh to be packed away. To wild to be sold. Made to be unique. Born to be bold. You are the beginning of a hatching story waiting to be told. So the past… matters not.
Love always, Esha ❤
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