Lexi Rosen

nobody warned me about how much of my twenties would be spent yearning wetly weirdly wildly for girls via text sometimes via instagram dms always a thirst trap on the close friends story always rusty lips no mascara always what’s your big three always a fucking gemini moon i lust for those older than i then i run from my youth while mourning last week like a long lost lover i listen to taylor swift and call it coping but really it’s just the act of putting on and ripping off a band-aid like razor-lined wax strips the wound is open stays open gets nipped at by the adhesive gets a fleck of paint in it i’m painting too see keep up and then probably some salt too because that’s what they say pink himalayan or sea salt is preferred flecks not rocks and why do i blow cool air from between hollow-logged-out lips blood should be warm i guess does the sting come from the change in temperature like peeing as soon as you get out of the pool i think kissing her would feel like that or like aloe on a six hour old sunburn it’d be sharp a stab a plunge a kiss that makes me suck in my stomach like i'm on stage anyways you know when you’re not confirmed in love but you just discussed it on the phone last week and like either way you’re her sun and she’s your moon my fyp has been on one lately about the sun and the moon that’s fine by me i love those guys i always thought that i was more of a moon girlie because i love her so much i buy all her merch i track her i blame my emotions on her but the girl i can’t fall in love with no matter how hard i try sent me one of these tiktoks and she said that i was her sun and suddenly it all made sense the sun the moon the chase the circles it was destiny or fate i think we were cosmically required to orbit and orbit and orbit until we were out of breath