nickthompson

we love like we sin, terrified and breathless. we are tea-at-midnight girls, naming constellations that don't exist after lost tourists we meet on the street, reminding our freckle covered shoulders that even beautiful things can be made ordinary. we are broken fingers and half-closed eyelids and a penchant for mischief. we are ribbon skin and frantic desires and incandescent hope. we are a voice spilling secrets to falling leaves diving after their arachnid brothers, mimicking the millions before us who were judged unfairly, unjustly but all too correctly. we whisper promises to dandelions because they do not know how to hold gru