The stars on my ceiling, they’re calling to me.
The stars on my ceiling, they’re calling to me.  stories
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melaniea
melanieaClass of 2018/INFP/Bibliophile/Writer
Autoplay OFF  •  9 months ago
Anything but infinite

The stars on my ceiling, they’re calling to me.

They make me want to dream, and sing myself to sleep.

This pillow that I’m holding, would feel like you. If we were to melt, and form into a puddle of two.

Gravity would catch us, on our long descent.

But if we tried to fly again, we’d fall head first and hit stone.

Or in this case, the holy pavement. Because our love would be whole; anything but infinite.

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