i have been waiting for my turn. my go. my comet to slip through my fingers no longer, for they are clenched close, so nothing can escape once i get a grip on the elusive celestial beings that can't even hold a candle to all that glowers deep in the caverns of your tiny chest, beating 700 million times before you die. and i just want one of those beats to be for me, to beat to speed a little bit faster, skip like hopscotched youth, because of me.

brb crying