Metaphors about the stars always make me cringe.
So John Green,
As if the eyes of a boy
Have ever looked like the night sky.
The problem with the sky is
It is so ephemeral,
Stars there one minute yet
Gone the next,
And I preferred my love constant.
Do you know what that feels like?
Like blinking and suddenly,
The rest of your life is standing right there.
Never before has my happy place
Been a person,
I thought happy places were the bulls***
Therapists told you to visualize,
I thought I’d spend my whole life
Talking to therapists for a
Lack of love.
I want to know everything about you.
August wind whistled through the redwoods.
I sat in my sweatshirt and wished
That it was yours.
Because you make me want to write all the love poems.
I’m mumbling metaphors in my sleep,
And I am not a girl who causes double takes.