Going, Going, Gone.

I’m the type of boy who has words, letters, phrases falling, tripping out of his mouth, the type of boy who’s too honest when he wants things, needs things to be a certain way, and has desires and dreams that are too far to reach, who writes with the heart he’s drawn on his bottom lip which he often tucks under his top teeth in confusion and worry. I’m the type of boy who romanticizes everything from the moment his skin touches hers to the moment it rains so hard he feels the weight of every single drop on his shoulders while he watches her walk away from what could’ve been — what should’ve been their future. I’m the type of boy who will always be chasing something that’s not his, no matter what, just because sometimes it’s the only thing he has that will keep him going.

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