Faze | Creative Writing

A strawberry kiss, a tattoo left by your sugar lips, is all I have to remind me of you. You left me hanging in the city of angels, lying on a blue carpet that smells so new. I have to credit you, with out a doubt, instead of leaving me hanging you took me out.

The crown that glitters can be gold, at least in the stories I’ve been told. Of a prince who lives in the depths of my heart, who’s dreamy and handsome and all but smart. I think I could be that queen, the one he loves, if you set me free as the white feathered doves. I want the glitter, I want the gold. I want to be a part of the stories I’ve been told.

I see you coming over the bend, as if the trip was nothing at all. You catch the fairy dust before it settles on the ground, and promise to catch my fall. You wiped my tears as I told my fears, and all was finally right. Please don’t make me come down from this high, when you say your final goodnight.

The crown that glitters can be gold, at least in the stories I’ve been told. Of a prince who lives in the depths of my heart, who’s dreamy and handsome and all but smart. I think I could be that queen, the one he loves, if you set me free as the white feathered doves. I want the glitter, I want the gold. I want to be a part of the stories I’ve been told.

I’ll only ever have eyes for you, after all the love you put me through. I could rest in your eyes, my starlit surprise. Tell me its over now, tell me I can go home with you. Tell me its starting now, tell me I belong to you.

The crown that glitters can be gold, at least in the stories I’ve been told. Of a prince who lives in the depths of my heart, who’s dreamy and handsome and all but smart. I think I could be that queen, the one he loves, if you set me free as the white feathered doves. I want the glitter, I want the gold. I want to be a part of the stories I’ve been told.