For the sunsets in us all, really.
And the night can then be either blackened, or
criss crossed with the constellations of light that
have secretly shone brighter than the sun,
when no one but the world was looking.
YOU ARE READING
Froot Loops @ Midnight
PoetryI don't know why I care about your thoughts so much. Who the hell cares why you're up at three in the morning?
