I hate the way you say my name.
Your voice is a rockslide that should
pour from the mouth of a cave, instead
of your lips which are like rose petals
or other pink things.
Somehow your dry
mouth says my name like snow
landing on grass, promising
to melt. Somehow my name
makes your gravel sound like
cotton, like sleeping on a bed
that belongs to you, a goodnight
kiss, a blessing.
I hate the way you say my name, but
only because I hate remembering
that you are anything other
than what I see, hate remembering
that beneath your blue
you are a constellation, and
when you say my name, I
should be a speck of dust
on your tongue, but you look at me
and I am a mountain.
EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD SIMULTANEOUSLY MAKES NO MORE SENSE AND ALL THE SENSE
WHY WOULD YOU POST SOMETHING LIKE THAT?????
Holy shit, guise. You know what I just caught?
When Dean was crazy, he liked playing board games with himself, too. That’s where Cas got it from.
OMFG SHUT THE FRONT DOOR