Dec 2018
ˈpridē boi/
noun
1. The world is not a love poem. When people think of you, they think of all the stars in your eyes. How they want to see space through your perspective.
2. They love you, do they do not know why. You are polarizing but with two broken halves. They feel butterflies of great endearment fluttering in their stomachs, the kinds that strangers might call destiny. the love of the curious for the curiosity.
3. Roses and dandelions. The air smells like fresh milk and lilac perfume. When we think of you we think of Their words, that seem to come through the mist. All those forgotten flowers. What was allowed and what wasn’t?
4. Electricity in your veins and stars in your eyes. Do you miss the wind or do you miss the flames? Maybe we’re all cabinets of wonders.
noun
1. The world is not a love poem. When people think of you, they think of all the stars in your eyes. How they want to see space through your perspective.
2. They love you, do they do not know why. You are polarizing but with two broken halves. They feel butterflies of great endearment fluttering in their stomachs, the kinds that strangers might call destiny. the love of the curious for the curiosity.
3. Roses and dandelions. The air smells like fresh milk and lilac perfume. When we think of you we think of Their words, that seem to come through the mist. All those forgotten flowers. What was allowed and what wasn’t?
4. Electricity in your veins and stars in your eyes. Do you miss the wind or do you miss the flames? Maybe we’re all cabinets of wonders.
