I haven’t written any flowery, whimsical shit about you lately.
But I can feel it taking root in my soul or spirit or heart or whatever part of me it is that swells and swoons whenever I think of you or speak to you. Roots - they grow down deep into the earth and soak up everything good that surrounds them. What a metaphor, right? The thought of you reaches into the dark places in me and soaks up all the good things, then brings them to the surface as something unapologetically beautiful.
I love who I am when I’m near you.
With love,
Immature girl..
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