My darling, he is just a boy. How can he possibly begin to appreciate the constellations you leave in your wake, or the stardust in your bones, when he has yet to realize just what it means to be in love with a girl like you?
Sometimes you are going to miss a person who was an almost to you. And feel sad because there is no name for that feeling. You just feel it in a way that makes you tired to your very bones.
Why be a half-finished poem in some forgotten poet’s story, when one can be an odyssey in and of herself, part magic, part villain, part Goddess, part lover.
