I think laying on my front porch would touch my heart. Tiny patters of rain hitting against it would be divine. An angel, a gift. Red roses and white sheets. There’s a kind of love in letters and handwriting and lace, I crave it badly. I crave the essence of a breezy Valentine’s Day in the middle of summer. Anyways. You could love someone and the miracle is: they could love you too. I don’t really mean the “could” but it sounds right. They do. You’re allowed to lick the flavor off their skin. You’re allowed to have their sunlight. You’re allowed to have them. Soft and sweet and…peachy? You’ll never know if the garden of love has a taste until you chase and look for it. Turns out, your desperation and self loathing disappears in the right altar of a person. Of a connection. A conversation. I find myself thinking about a heaven that only exists when you’re looking at me. I’d risk a small kiss on your cheek. I’ve been attentive to off waking hours, some nights I found myself only being able to sleep thinking of your essence next to me.
🛌☀️💌













