friday, 11pm.
friday, 11pm. certainty stories
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olifinch182
olifinch182thinker of tender thoughts
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago

friday, 11pm.

by olifinch182

i swear to god the moment we made eye contact it felt as though i'd flipped through every love poem and song written for the one right person.

right then, standing on a street corner not knowing what to do with my hands or my face or the tears welting at my eyes and suddenly-

all of the writers we'd learned about in school every letter left under door mats without a signature because i was too scared, eons of lovers left to wilt- it all made sense.

they were paving better grounds towards better times and in that moment, with the tunnel lights fingering through his hair and the night singing her psalms in his irises,

the poetry writing itself with his freckles and hands as they held mine, trembling oh so hard. in that moment, there were no more sad stories to make or even recall.

in that second between heart beats and sweaty palms no force of nature could have told me otherwise.

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