secretangel
Warmth. It exists in the heart of home.
It calls on all the stars that align with the scents.
Oh sweet, baked and fried and scrumptious food.
It beckons us all, to us fortunate to own such a thing.
Now if only I could learn to work the darn things It likes to mock me. Burn my food. Maybe it doesn't like me at all. Maybe I need practice.
♥
Those were crystalline
Falling from the sky
Empty and yet profound
Hear its roaring sound
Heat scorches through the depths of her chest. Something coils up in her throat.
Oh no.
It's happening.
Before she can stop herself,
the burn reaches her eyes.
Theres a silent storm whirling.
It traces pain down her cheeks.