The universe spills out in your breath
Spinning into a pattering fountain of laughter
Sparking a flame to wake and warm my heart
Forming dust into planets and stars
Galaxies born on the tip of your tongue
Sunsets paint the inside of your mouth
A bouquet of infinite, beautiful, choas
Yours is the breath of life
🍑
I’m moving into my new place tomorrow.
Thinking about you.
-Spaceman
River walks, sour rope, late nights, writing raps, early mornings, homemade London fogs, peaches, surprise backflips, swing dancing, twinkle lights, apt G5.
There is so much good. I miss you.
3/8/18
🐟❤️🦁
Sweet dreams.
You are the moon and stars.
Cold pizza,
Tie dye shirts,
Broken hearts,
Give ‘em here, give 'em here.
Hand-me-downs,
Leftovers,
Sloppy seconds,
Give 'em here, give 'em here.
I don’t care where you been, how many miles.
I still love you.
Not sure what I’m doing on here, but it’s kindof been like a second journal and I’m not even sure if I’m writing to you or just to myself, but. Yeah.
Man, I really needed you today.
You know that saying, “when it rains, it pours”?
It was one of those days.
The basement flooded in my work on top of an extremely late train and other stuff just kept piling on.
I’ll survive, just really beat.
I hope you have a good day. And hey, it’s only 1:45p, maybe things will turn around.
Thinking about you.
-Spaceman
The fucking thing is, I still love you.
Every part of your heart. Extra ventricles, arteries and all. They can freeze or cauterize them closed, but my love is sent there anyways.
I love you. Your past, your present, all of you.
Even the parts they and you try to cut out.
You’re still you. And that’s the best thing.
Always.
difficult