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Boy Problems
Boy Problems
She stepped into the elevator.
Puffy eyes, fingers typing fast—
I knew exactly what she'd been through.
Two girls with the same boy-shaped bruise.
Same necklace. Same florals adorning our ears.
She stepped into the elevator.
Puffy eyes, fingers typing fast—
I knew exactly what she'd been through.
Two girls with the same boy-shaped bruise.
Same necklace. Same florals adorning our ears.
She told me she tossed it all—his gifts, his ghost.
Then she decided to take the gems back.
Because it was supposed to be the perfect day for us to shine.
Don’t let him make it rain.
She told me she tossed it all—his gifts, his ghost.
Then she decided to take the gems back.
Because it was supposed to be the perfect day for us to shine.
Don’t let him make it rain.
Silk robes at 2 p.m., gowns at 3 a.m., makeup untouched by time, and jewels scattered like art.
The kind of energy that says: heartbreak? Never heard of it.
It’s all about the aura, the poise, the hedonistic joy of existing.
Silk robes at 2 p.m., gowns at 3 a.m., makeup untouched by time, and jewels scattered like art.
The kind of energy that says: heartbreak? Never heard of it.
It’s all about the aura, the poise, the hedonistic joy of existing.
Because we don’t keep boys, we keep our own shine.
Because we don’t keep boys, we keep our own shine.