Words, words, words

date a girl who’s hair is always damp. date a girl who’s braids like to wrap around your head and body as you kiss her. date a girl who’s dark, wet, locks leave you slightly slimy after dates.

Date a boy who has paper for skin and ink for blood, who smells of dust and sunlight and whose eyes tell you stories

Date the cryptic being that is full of stars. They float between the universes and bring you stardust from another world. They will always come back to you even when it’s been too long to remember their form. They always return.

Date a boy whose skin is flawless, youthful, seemingly ageless, when he is in fact as old as the forest itself. His curiously green eyes glitter like gemstones and when he talks to the succulents lining his shelves and windowsills, you swear you can almost hear them whispering back. He takes your hand and leads you into the woods during spring, when the forest is teeming with vibrant greens and new life, and the trees seem to bend his way as he sits in the shade, striking up conversation with the ancient oak tree his back’s up against. His fingertips graze flower buds not yet bloomed and, as if they were comforted by his warm touch, they unfurl and open before your eyes.