think the light thinks we’re as important as we do?
sitting here, my heart feels like august, like a morning made of champagne bubbles, like birthday, like the first day of a new year after all the stumbling and the few hours of sleep
and i cant believe all this love exists in me, feels like an open wound, bleeds thick like we just tapped a maple tree and let all the insides out.
is that what really happened? i cant remember through all the
dizzy-looking-up-at-the-stars and the
and the way your mouth is kind of like high beams and mine is like a whole sky full of moths.
guess we’re more important than anything, holding our hearts in our open hands and turning the whole world gold because of it.