Ananda

When you wake up, you have a croak in your voice that stays there until I kiss you. You sound like scrunched up paper and aluminium foil.

When you’re crying, your words are quiet but your tears seem to be on speaker—salty wounds dripping down your cheek.

When you’re consoling me, you sound like liquid gold, sweet and rich like honey. Softer and warmer than usual, the single note could break my bones.

When you’re laughing, it feels like snow on my skin. A warm embrace and a Christmas morning. ♦