life tasted sweet under your eyelashes, ******* strawberry-flavored flowers, and spitting out the seeds which would eventually grow into humble spite.
when the ground was bare, and the atmosphere was intact, my eyes never left your fingers and my sharp friend never forgot the taste of my strawberry wrists.
addicting promising bittersweet in the sense that you tend to forget that my fate is my gold hence, it is time to work. it is time to get old.
we are never going back under this tree again. (aren't we?)
for it is the calling. it is time to speak with the tongue of love - for myself. no longer pink from the strawberries.
i want to look loud, i want the flavor of the world beyond. i want to **** the clouds until they gravitate back to earth. i want to be satisfied, not full.
full circle. life has changed drastically for the past years. i'm excited to get back to writing. i hope you're all doing well **