got too many reals, i just want to feel too many outfits for the places i go gold like an arrow to praise the nights coming through the green-yellow days dauntless and swift
want to flex like a child— here comes the trail and the feels that feel real sit out in a tank top for the inner freedom til the sun spears the ocean and the moon rises this blasting heat is the way April wants to leave us
ok last poem wasn’t a real one, it was a rant about a friend and that’s not cool so i deleted it. it’s dead now