Mar 2017
my organs in a snapshot
//
i might rip my lungs out because you’ve become my every
breath, and i can hardly deal with ache in my chest. is it love?
everyone can tell that i am different. everyone can tell that i’m
glowing and maybe it’s because of you, maybe it’s because the
two of us make something like starlight. you are the very
creation of every single constellation, you are my inspiration,
my oxygen, the very consolidation of truth.
you rip my heart out and bring it back moments later. it’s laced
with fairie lights and twinkles, and somehow it’s still whole.
you are the only person that has not torn it apart.
god, babe. no one i’ve met has made me want to sing the way
you make me want to sing. i’m resting my head against your
chest as we dance to our favourite mixtape. slow and sweet,
like maple syrup. it’s been almost three weeks and i know
exactly what this means. the butterflies in my stomach turn into
fireflies and they love you.
and now you’re thinking,
baby, you’re golden,
baby, i’m holding
on to you.
baby you’re golden,
baby i’m holding
on.
baby, you’re golden
baby, you are,
you are,
you are...
//
i might rip my lungs out because you’ve become my every
breath, and i can hardly deal with ache in my chest. is it love?
everyone can tell that i am different. everyone can tell that i’m
glowing and maybe it’s because of you, maybe it’s because the
two of us make something like starlight. you are the very
creation of every single constellation, you are my inspiration,
my oxygen, the very consolidation of truth.
you rip my heart out and bring it back moments later. it’s laced
with fairie lights and twinkles, and somehow it’s still whole.
you are the only person that has not torn it apart.
god, babe. no one i’ve met has made me want to sing the way
you make me want to sing. i’m resting my head against your
chest as we dance to our favourite mixtape. slow and sweet,
like maple syrup. it’s been almost three weeks and i know
exactly what this means. the butterflies in my stomach turn into
fireflies and they love you.
and now you’re thinking,
baby, you’re golden,
baby, i’m holding
on to you.
baby you’re golden,
baby i’m holding
on.
baby, you’re golden
baby, you are,
you are,
you are...
side b of the mixtape poem.
