Come Home To Me

It was 4:20 am and sleep was far. So I wrote. It's just one of those rantings to put your mind at ease when it has too many things brewing inside it.

The Morning After

A Letter

To the guy who smells like Orion dipped in honey,

You wouldn't mind, would you? That I write of you in ways to lament our memories. Do you mind that I'm telling the whole world how much I wish with all the bones of my body and within, that I could be graced with your presence for all my life? That although I have wished all my life, not to get attached to anyone or anything, the thought of not being able to hear your voice everyday shudders every atom inside of me. I hope you don't mind, my love, that when you're away, I miss you in ways that question my pride and morality and everything I have ever believed in. That every time i breathe you in, your Orion-dipped-in-honey smell gives me a high and takes me to a place where no one else can. I truly hope you don't mind that all the constellations above slowly fade and die out everytime I see you and breathe your scent into me, and I glow a little brighter.

Some day, we'll be history. And all that's left of us will be photographs on our walls and videos in our heads. But god, I pray that it doesn't come to that. I pray that some day, when I miss your scent, all I have to do is pull you close and breathe you in, and the constellations above slowly fade and die out one more time, and I glow a little brighter, one more time.

Unravel Me

Found

The City Never Sleeps

Plans

Never Have I Ever

Home Is What You Feel Like

An Apology For The Cloaked and Hidden