Nov 2020
You climbed the stairs of air, and your dream, and dream of what’s ahead.
The bridge beneath your feet is thin as a strand of hair, yet you don’t fall. Chasing me is dangerous don’t you see? Do not chase me stargazer, my stars are not glistening pools of astral.
They are memories compressed so tightly that when I embrace you , you will be thrown into another galaxy. As quick as I throw you, you return faster. Counting my stars is ecstatic you say.
“Don’t conceal your beauty from me.”
The bridge beneath your feet is thin as a strand of hair, yet you don’t fall. Chasing me is dangerous don’t you see? Do not chase me stargazer, my stars are not glistening pools of astral.
They are memories compressed so tightly that when I embrace you , you will be thrown into another galaxy. As quick as I throw you, you return faster. Counting my stars is ecstatic you say.
“Don’t conceal your beauty from me.”
Another random peice of writing I wrote at school. This one is written for the boy who sits beside me in social studies. The one who isn’t afraid of me.
