Aug 29, 2017
that boy has locked sunlight in his hair and a summer breeze surrounding him.Ā he's gold. all gold, more precious than the real thing. they tell me boys donāt need saving, that i canāt protect him, not from this but, dear god, i would travel so far to bless his smile and banish what makes his eyes dim; to save him from whatever makes the soft go hard and stale. he doesn't deserve the bite of reality, to know people see his kind eyes as chinks in armor, but we all must learn. the world is more red than rosy.Ā he tells me he canĀ save himself. i hope he does.
// distress //
