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June 12 - June 15, 2023
“How’s the weather over there, Parks?”
Cut me and I’d bleed him.
Fifteen. She had me at one.
“Parks, there’s not much about me that isn’t about you.”
“I like you in everything,” I tell her
Forget the metaphors about the jumper cables and the sparks, we’re all of them and none of them—Parks and me. It’s in the fucking stars.
Because for her, it’s always you—”
. . looks at you and sees the sun.
Can you die from a broken heart, do you know? And if I did and they cut me wide open, would I bleed loving him?
