oh how you turn the love as chaotic as ours into something so comforting; i no longer want to call it violent. storm-like. visceral. i want nothing but warm hands and ether kisses, withering like the fire-lit buttercups on your night stand. i want nothing more than to talk to you with a mouthful of sunsets. i want nothing more than the calm quiet nights, with no space between us, our skin aglow under lilac fairy lights. i want this new-found state of quiet grace. i want to be draped in your presence: a girl who never stays too long in a crowded city. a constant stranger. a new-found belief where good things end up and finally fall into place.

at last — something our hearts are cut out for.