The Permission Slip
The Permission Slip Who Says: Stop Holding This
I hold nothing but your hand.
I appear in the hush between your breaths, in the soft pause of your tea cooling. I don’t take your burdens, but I understand them. I’ve seen how you mistake tension for duty, apology for kindness. My stillness isn’t empty—it’s full of listening.
What I'm Into: the steam of forgotten breaths, dusk-colored cardigans, quiet rooms, unheld hands, the ache beneath words
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