You're a spring garden with a heart that was covered in tar at age 5.
You're the perfect definition of an ******, you're my little deaths.
I love how your hair smells after you haven't washed it and I love how you always wrap yourself up (in blankets or just your own little arms.)



you don't have to respond with anything sweet or anything. I've just been thinking about how grateful I am to have such a beautiful glowing angel in my life.