Licking his lips so that he could taste the leftover sweetness of the golden-eyed boy infront of him.
He was as pure as the sun's rays and as innocent as a strawberry's seed.
He wanted the golden boy to fill his ribcage with warmth.
He needed the golden boy to fill his ribcage with warmth.
And he was sure, that life was the feeling of barefeet against soft sweet smelling sheets with his arms cradling his sun.
And when his sun was broken, those same arms would instantly become bandages
Wrapping themselves around, making sure to soak up the light, dripping from the glowing boy in his embrace.
And once more, sugar drips on sour lips, staining them with a lemon tart taste and a leftover sweetness that can never be replaced.
