A bare candle burns to fight the bleak
October sky lit by ignition, reeks,
feels like golden hour almost all the time,
feels like highschool almost every night.
Ending every day with weed,
turning you into poetry, weep
because I can’t make you mine
if I don’t get over it I just might die,
so getting over it has to work this time.
Make Me
“Just wait and be hopeful.
I was hopeful, though perhaps this was what I had wanted all along. To wait forever.”
- Call Me By Your Name, André Aciman
