danseurs:

I’m in love with you, the skies, the sun, the stars.  I’m in love with the way the day coexists with night; the way I catch facets of moonlight in my palms, lassoing the stars with the tips of my fingers; keeping the universes safe within the breast of my front pocket.  I’m in love with your voice, soft and runny and gentle.  The way it courses through the innards of my soul, as if nourishing my every part with an eternal reassurance, lulling and dreamy and beautiful.  I’m in love with your eyes, pale blue vessel-blue, a quiet haven.  I’m in love with your touch, your flesh against mine, so real, so tangible, so frail.  I could almost feel your writhing heart, worn and dilapidated, breaking down at each impalpable beat.  Embrace yourself, fold yourself up, hide yourself beneath the hollows of your skin, I would ink constellations into you; carve the shape of shores and etch the landscapes of New York City into your skin, I want you to leave an indent of yourself, a piece, a fragment, a remnant- I want to feel you, remember you- your curvature, your knees, your eyes, your cheekbones, your clavicles, your breaths, your heartbeats.  So tangible.  So enchanting.  So beautiful.

(via teen-perfection)