“There was a part of her she hadn’t yet allowed to be born because it was too beautiful for this place”
― Denis Johnson, Jesus' Son 51 followers / 4.7k words
Your face is love, in its absolute form. Your body is the canvas, I long to trace stars on. Your laugh is the warmth, of a summer breeze. My long time friend, you're growing in me.
It's tough remembering the little things, all the words that now settle in the cracks somewhere between here and nowhere. Your face is now nothing more then letters scrambled across these white pages, and the buttflies have froze waiting for your body heat.