I'm no good at writing about things that make me happy or things that make me glow.
All it seems that I'm good at is writing about everything that gets me low.
These feelings and news, filled with substance abuse, that's all I am good at and nothing else, so I guess that is my muse

You and I and these beachy vibes.
Swaying like the palm trees in the wind.
The California breeze blowing through our hair as we stay here perfectly still. We build barriers from sand and shells, to protect this moment from all the stares.

You make me as happy as the stars in the night sky or a cup of coffee and photography.

Hazel eyed boy so mysterious and abstruse, won't you let me explore you?
You seem so disclosed but let people know that you are one who won't let anything show. You're hard to read. Some have attempted and left your pages tattered and torn, just know that I have always been one that is up for a difficult read.