You mistake her name for the moon.
Mistake porch lights for the stars.
And sometimes they are.
Her constellations lead me home, ten thousand shades of open, and if there’s one thing in this world I’ve ever known for sure is that this girl is gonna crush me like a small bug, leave me so fucking broken there’ll be body bags beneath my eyes from nights I cried so hard the stars died.
But I’m like, go ahead, I’m all yours.
I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm cause I’d rather be left for dead than left to wonder what thunder sounds like.