If the boy who draws
let’s you look over his shoulder.
If the poet
and shows you her words.
If the girl who sings for the shower only,
hums a song
in front of you.
Know that you’re no longer a person
but the air
that fills their lungs.
When the world perishes,
and all things cease to exist,
you’ll remain inside an ink stain,
a paint brush,
— Alaska Gold
treat me like a college textbook. spend lots of money on me but never touch or look at me
no. treat me like your favorite book. keep me by your side, touch my every page, learn all my twists and turns, remember every word I say, even the ones that make you cry
*4-second-long fart noise*