iv. OH! TO BE [...]
- WRITTEN: JANUARY TWENTY FIFTH TWO THOUSAND SIXTEEN -
- POSTED: JANUARY TWENTY FIFTH TWO THOUSAND SIXTEEN -
She is all types of art, covered in shades of gold and white and rose.
Now, I'm not religious but oh is she is a Goddess. It would take only one word to
spill off of her pink tongue and I would be hers. I would sacrifice and pray and
give my god damn soul. All she needs is ask.
She is humble but glorious as she mumbles how horrible she looks as she takes a
picture. I am in love and it would take too much for me to tear my eyes away. She's
coquettish and she doesn't even know it; I know she doesn't.
I have told her and will continue to tell her how she hurts my heart with her good
looks and kind soul. Her laugh is music! Her smile is art! I clutch my chest and
repeat the words "oh my god, oh my god," until I can feel again.
She tells me I am a flower and that I am too kind and I hear her words but I feel like
dying because I am speaking to a Goddess [well, she is doing most of the talking]
though I can't feel anything except my heart beating and swelling at the same time.
Oh to be as pure as she.
Oh to be as humble and innocent and beautiful.
Oh to go through life with a halo over my head and stars in my eyes and my nose
in a book.
YOU ARE READING
celestial
Poesía"positioned in or relating to the sky, or outer space" because everyone I love, loved, and will ever love does, has, and will fascinate me much like the stars in the sky do.
