۶ৎ⋆:: song: Drop Dead
by: Olivia Rodrigo

I see the quiet ache in the blue waters of your wells —
Your eyes are the mirror of your soul, untouched by hurt.
You're capable of surviving, capable of saving yourself,
And I wish you knew just how much you truly deserve.

🤍ith other people, I'm a never-opening bud, but, with you, I bloom.
Other hands feel like danger, and I can't let my guard down and lose
All of my petals — they'd tear me apart and throw them around
And dance, their movements ghostly, as if they were eerie shadows.
🌟🌟
Your hands are gentle, your gestures are slow — you're careful and shy,
And that's exactly what's needed to heal a broken, closed-off heart.
Your soft gaze wanders across my tense blossoms — you wait.
Oh, how I'm happy you don't let the water in my vase stagnate!
                         🌟🌟
I am delicate after so many heartbreaks, so you take care of me.
You share your jokes, and your sense of humour is crazy, unique.
Each moment spent with you makes me unravel just a tiny bit more,
Until all the petals have opened, revealing a flower one cannot ignore.
                         🌟🌟
Vulnerable and fragile, I stand before you, my big eyes full of trust.
You're a good person; you're a gentleman who makes me laugh.
I spread out my hand, will you take it? Will you guide me through life?
Just like you did the moment we got lost after that walk in the park.
                         🌟🌟
God, I crave your softness, I need it like water, like air, like peace.
I know you aren't perfect — there are layers upon layers underneath
The pretty wrapper, the chocolate treat; yet I want to give it a bite.
I might be a dummy, but wasn't it you who said we only live once?..
                         🌟🌟
With other people, I'm a never-opening bud, but, with you, I bloom.
Other hands burn, and yours heal; you're more than simply a muse.
Other fingers leave smudges and scratches, yours don't.
I'd love for you to read this poem, but — who knows — maybe you won't.

I might be a tiny bit in love

ʚଓ ּ ֶָ֢. my new favourite
form of escapism