this poem is called ‘spilt milk’ 🥛🪐💫 i think i had the worst stage fright of my life before getting up to read this one. it felt like perhaps one of the most vulnerable poems i’d ever shared. i think i am a very private person. i keep a lot to myself. my journey with writing was one that began in the safety & privacy of my own bedroom. a cave i could retreat from the world into. books were my solace, portals to other worlds i could dive entirely & wholly into. all else would dissolve, the noi
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this poem is called ‘spilt milk’ 🥛🪐💫 i think i had the worst stage fright of my life before getting up to read this one. it felt like perhaps one of the most vulnerable poems i’d ever shared. i think i am a very private person. i keep a lot to myself. my journey with writing was one that began in the safety & privacy of my own bedroom. a cave i could retreat from the world into. books were my solace, portals to other worlds i could dive entirely & wholly into. all else would dissolve, the noi
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