Thumbing your nose while indexing scars and flipping the bird because only dead birds lie on their back and you're so alive. Tracing your lonely ring finger, contemplating all the promises you made and want to keep.
Your hand is the hand I want to hold because I never stop loving the people I've loved, I just love others more and I love like stars. Countless cold lights that pepper my skies have made me appreciate warmth. I am my own world, but this is a Sun.
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FOE Brett
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