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Hundreds of miles away, my heart beats without a regard. It averts eye contact, dismissing any suggestions of interest— knowing well that familiarity is almost as obnoxious as the word “discourse”. It works aimlessly, wandering for a place to call home—knowing that home is a hostel full of ideas brighter than my favorite constellation. Even when directionless, it still finds itself waiting at a door half closed—knowing the only safe space it can stand is the comfort of despondency. It’s a man of few words, But of infinite thoughts. It still makes me hope from miles away. I know that it’ll be okay, Because uncertainty is my favorite color. But most of all, I can still feel my heart here. It follows me up empty elevators, And in between street lights that lead back to the only home I’ve ever known. And I just want to say hi.
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 4:03 AM UTC
3700 Massachusetts Ave.
Hundreds of miles away, my heart beats without a regard. It averts eye contact, dismissing any suggestions of interest— knowing well that familiarity is almost as obnoxious as the word “discourse”. It works aimlessly, wandering for a place to call home—knowing that home is a hostel full of ideas brighter than my favorite constellation. Even when directionless, it still finds itself waiting at a door half closed—knowing the only safe space it can stand is the comfort of despondency. It’s a man of few words, But of infinite thoughts. It still makes me hope from miles away. I know that it’ll be okay, Because uncertainty is my favorite color. But most of all, I can still feel my heart here. It follows me up empty elevators, And in between street lights that lead back to the only home I’ve ever known. And I just want to say hi.
sabrina-flowers
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Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 4:03 AM UTC
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