Every star has a story. Just like every human being is made from the very same elements all fused together as one.
Every star has a story and I find myself clawing away at each layer to find the innermost depth. Just like I want to be buried so far underneath you that I can't breathe.
Every star has a story and I'm slowly learning that I depend on them being there. Just like without you, I am nothing.
Every star has a story, so how come I'm more interested in memorising the dimples that sit in the most perfect of places on your face. How come I'd rather make constellations of your freckles than of the wonders of the night sky. How come the entirety of the simple existence of you means more to me than a goddamn star ever could.
Every star has a story and I'm in love with that very idea. Just like I'm in love with you. And your eyes. And your fingers. And your mind.
Every star has a story but none could ever make me feel the way that you do.
YOU ARE READING
If only we could fly.
RandomSometimes I can't sleep and my thoughts cloud my vision of reality; these are the things that I write in times of confusion- when everything is blurred except my love for you. ((this wasn't how this story was supposed to go, I'm sorry))
