home is where the heart is at. & that’s why those wounds are the ones that cut in the deepest.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
“
| — | Langston Hughes (via locool) |
