Saturday, August 30, 2014

It has to end like this.
The sun swallowing the world we created and all of our moons becoming so full on our promises, we turn into monsters.
I swear I wanted to give you something
better than this.
I wanted to paint the sky you saw in me, and I wanted it to be the color of you staying.
But you’re a paper kite disappearing
inside of a black hole, and I can’t follow you into something  that won’t let me back out again.

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