I want you to remember my lips beneath your fingers and how you told me things you never told another soul. I want you to know that I have kept sacred, everything you had entrusted in me and I always will.
We number our days and divide our seasons. We endlessly define what it is to be in love. When in truth, spring blurs into summer and always has, long before that line was ever drawn.
You’re still crying about him aren’t you? Silly girl. What good will it do you to spill those sky blu tears? You meant either everything to him or absolutely nothing at all.
You’re young and there’s still so much ahead. So much uncertainty and doubt. It keeps you up at night-this wild, restless feeling. But you don’t know how free you are. For this short, miraculous time, you have no one to answer to, nothing to lose. You belong wholly to yourself.
