I’ve always said that sighs would make the prettiest thesaurus words
And I guess you could be my breath of fresh air.
I crack spines to promise myself we’ll turn out fine.
It’s hard to believe in fiction, isn’t it?
But I’m told to follow my gut feeling and my gut feeling leads me to believe
That we’re written out in the stars
And if I lie in the grass long enough
I can almost read our story.
I have a feeling it’ll be good.

dare you to move.