You can tell me I’m beautiful as long as you mean it, because you feel it in your bones.
Tell me you love my tan because it symbolises the summertime, even more
specifically the summer that you met me. Tell me I’m insane, but the good kind
that makes your heart giggle. Tell me I’m reckless, that I should think things
through but it’s okay because now there are things you’re glad I made you
do.Tell me your mom loves it when I
come over because I am sunshine and you’re a prism and she loves seeing
rainbows. Tell me you thank God he made me but if the world shall perish at
least you were happy. Tell me I’m a catastrophe, that I’m really hard to deal
with sometimes. Tell me I’m a metaphor, tell me I’m an oxymoron, damn it, tell
me I’m the English language because fuck am I complicated as hell. Tell me you
love me, because I know you do.
Or did? If so, tell me why you stopped, tell me why you
don’t anymore. Tell me I am a storm cloud now. I don’t care what you tell me,
just don’t let the silence get too loud.
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