dear PJS,
with you, the summer days were colder than winters in Antarctica. with you, nights seem terrifying and my body seemed like a forest in those fairytales you read as a kid. but honey, summer is warm without you. summer is filled with ice cream and movies with another, summer is stargazing and making out. without you, nights are meant for sleeping. without you, I realized that I'm not a forest, and I should stop trimming the bushes, for I am a flower, that just began to blossom.
if anything scares me, it sure is the thought that another girl will believe she is a wood full of ticks and spiders when she actually shines brighter than a rose. for you, you are a galaxy but honey, we are not living in fantasy. you are a star in a world of planets. you are the fucking dirt that helped me sprout. you are the unwanted rain in my July.
I am more beautiful than the sun herself, and more mysterious and vengeful than the moon himself. you fucking boy, are nothing better than a sprinkle of dust on the shelves in my old apartment. you are nothing but boy, and I'm a princess.
YOU ARE READING
8:49 a m
Teen Fictionbecause apparently I play the victim. apparently I really am as bad as you say. I know you hate me, and it's fine, because I've learned to hate me too.
