Belonging is the weight of my name when it doesn't stumble in someone else's mouth. It's not the walls I grew up with, but the silence between two people that doesn't ache.
Belonging is the weight of my name when it doesn't stumble in someone else's mouth.
It's not the walls I grew up with, but the silence between two people that doesn't ache.
They told me it's a place, a passport, a flag, a hymn sung in unison.
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Belonging is the weight of my name when it doesn't stumble in someone else's mouth. It's not the walls I grew up with, but the silence between two people that doesn't ache. They told me it's a place, a passport, a flag, a hymn sung in unison.
They told me it's a place, a passport, a flag, a hymn sung in unison.
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