“We were kids, watching the moon move across the sky and writing poems we’d never show the world. We were stuck in hometowns that didn’t understand the crooked way we grew, these branches too long for our roots, these dreams too big for our age. I don’t know if you write anymore, but your name keeps popping up in these pages. I hope she understands your scars. I hope she’s good to you in every way you deserve.”— Schuyler Peck, You’re Getting Married Next Week
(via daisylongmile)









