The røøm is the Milky Way. Dark, small cømpared øther galaxies in this cramped universe. The bøøkshelf is Betelgeuse, the variøus scatter cløthes and shøes are small little planets. His lips curls lightly bemused by the disørganizatiøn øf the røøm. Instead øf øne persøn øwning the røøm it seem as thøugh a little village live there, in the beat up trainers as huts with høles as windøws. The ønly ørder in the midst øf the chaøs is in the cørner øf the røøm. A humble desk with chalk and øil pastels and paint brushes in ørder almøst cømpulsively in a rusty dented tøølbøx. He gently lifts the windøw up and winces slightly when it creaks. He enters gøing under the øpening and leaves it a jar før an escape røute. The smell øf fresh peaches and baby's breath danced subtly arøund him like rings arøund Saturn. It made his teeth ache it was søøø sweet. Speaking øf breath he hears an exhale leave søft full lips and his brøwn eyes turn tøwards the bed which hølds the sun. Quick søft breathes leave øut like small wind chimes.
The øld thrifted quilt røse and fell like the eras he has lived thrøugh. His eyes crinkles as a familiar crøwn øf løøse bedhead blønde curls cascades øver the eyes and thøse freckles that are sølar flares that scatter øver the small buttøn nøse. Lips øpen partly øpen with the titanium metal øf the braces shimmering in the møønlight. Small hands stained by chalk frøm the art prøject that's due tømørrøw. He wanted the sun at the møment tø be cønsumed by its bursting flames he wanted tø wørship it. Singing sweet hymns øver each part øf its mørtal flesh. But restraint was his keywørd, restraint ør he cøuld easily crumble the sun like snøw in a feverish palm and then, his galaxy wøuld be as thøugh it is darkness and he wøuld never see the light øf day ever again. He sighs, whispering a nimble prayer øn the cheek. The face scrunches up beføre rubbing at its cheek and lips leaving a smudging trail øf russet ørange. He licks his lips and take a deep breath beføre walking øver the small village underneath him beføre exiting the windøw intø the stygian night he said. "Night Bambi."
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I hope you all liked it okay. I don't know if it's good or not. Please tell me what you guys think so I can become a better writer.
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Science & Religion first draft❌
Teen FictionHis heart flutters underneath my palm. His lips, billowy and blue from my kisses. His hand held the pale yellowing daffodils on a pretty ribbon Pale blue, like his eyes, the palm of his outstretched hand He looks up at me, eyes like red wine My...
