We are some of us made of gold. We pass through fire and never fold. Not when the fire was expected, the deepest kinds. We saw it, circled it with all our might, then let it burn us. If we don’t burn, we stay. If we burn, we let all the pain seep deeply within for the beauty of the ashes. Keep moments that remind you of gold.
Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor 
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