the truth is, i want to be wild. i want sand between my toes and paint-covered fingertips running over berry-stained lips. i want battle wounds that cry love and terror and weakness and all things beautiful. and i want stardust and a tenderness that looks like the softness of the moon, full in its iridescence and sweet in its shimmery night-lit lullaby. i want freedom. i want peace. but most of all, i want you. 

Krista Hovsepian