silversongsuggestion:

Star veins pumping, his wrists are blue under the lipstick if you squint. Believe me, I’m squinting.

When I was a girl, I used to wonder what it was like when stars fell. Did it hurt? Did they fall just so I could make a wish? Are shooting stars just sparkling martyrs in space?

Some days, he tastes like desire. Most days he tastes deceptively human. I don’t really know what to do with that.

I put him in every metaphor, in every margin, in every crinkled paper becoming lost in the back of my bag.

I don’t know how to be rescued, so I don’t know how to rescue anyone else. See, I know he fell from the sky for me. He landed in the sea and hasn’t been able to spit the waves out again. That’s okay, I know a thing or too about drowning too.

Halos don’t float overhead. They wrap themselves around veins, throats, pupils, and they rest. Did you know looking at a halo can blind you? At least to the rest of the world. If you squint, you can see halos ringing the blue in his wrists.