“i often wonder why the stars only come out at night when they are often the center of poetry no matter the time of day i smoke daisies and pour over your words like honey in an afternoon tea you taught me how to trust someone and soon thereafter how to lose this and i never got to say goodbye so forgive me if i reach out for kisses all too often i’m just learning to forget the taste of your tongue by drowning my sorrows in the wine of other midnight regrets. i wake up the next morning and wonder again about the stars i consider that maybe the stars disappear so that we can shine brighter but then i recall that you’re still miles away and i’m still dim as a burning out candle but there are days when even burning incense titled “zen” in my eggshell colored bedroom cannot make me feel as cleansed as you once did through the roots of my hair you combed your fingers and i danced along your spine with my nails although sometimes at night when the stars do peak out they whisper to me softly that i am better off dim and free than sparkling and naive in love with a boy who i knew was always wrong for me i have always kept one foot in front of the other ready to run not from you, but from myself. the stars will catch me even though you’re long gone and i’m as far from myself as i ever have been and the moon will cradle me like you once did until i forget that you did not make me brighter, but you were my light”
I guess airplanes make me hyper.

I guess airplanes make me hyper.


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