
01/31/2024
π
Taylor Swift has always had a special place in my life. Before my writing started, she was the relief of everyday life. Time with her was epitome of just being casually myself. Just how I'd love to feel.
Then I started out a wild writer and her snuffling was the stentorian. I'd arrived at heaven, from hostility encompassing all I leaned on for my identity. My persona and validation had been revoked.
Careful not to rustle any twigs, be called crazy for a publication I wasn't willing to share, but on my old X account, valenceEve. I opted for the name Betty from the Folklore album. I thought I'd call her Betty to keep a secret. That way if it landed in the wrong hands, its content would be too extraneous to connect back to me. As it'd be expected, a dedication to Taylor Swift. But I believe differently now.
It's a long time ago since I packed my bags and left for my own cruel summer, where I wrote some of the poems in this collection. I offer them differently this time, a hundred and seventeen entries.
(Nightswan Frith Hilton)
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