SCRUNCHED UP LETTERS:
sweetcheeks,
when i close my eyes and envision you, i blurrily catch hasty glimpses of vines adorning brick walls. it is as if i see them through train windows, though i do not know where i am going. i'll just wait for your rose petal voice to tell me in sprinkled singsong. i can never
babydoll,
i close my eyes to dream of you sometimes. in these occurrences, you wear your smiles like the eiffel tower wears grainy instagram filters; like jangling piano wears the question "is there life on mars?"; like
dearest darling,
your image in my mind will always be surrounded by a most prepossessing shade of crimson. think... pristine strawberries. bouquets of hopeless roses. nights in the height of summer. the colour of fireworks and promises not yet broken. the saddest kind of innocence.
petal,
gosh, you have this way of filling empty corners with comfort of a most unexpected form. it creeps up on me unnoticed and
