your split-lipped compliments are boulder-heavy with caramel undertones, while i’ve got my basic stardusted collarbones and dancing fingertips; ink stained and lust-conforming.
you’re stitching your ideas onto my cerebellum, and as i cry ‘foul!’ you fly away like you’re free. spit speckled with blood and my dna, you laugh and cry and kiss like you’re mine.
dreams are growing like wild flowers, and babe they make me itch for some sort of way to alleviate the pain. but people claim, that these moments we spend are never going to be more than little discomfort and i dare say that they’re wrong.
my body is not weather proof. it will wash away in the rain, so hold me under your umbrella and keep me by your side, because that way if all else fails we’ll wash away together.