The Girl Who Cries Happy Tears in the Uber Home
Drunk on Love in the Backseat of an Uber
Barefoot in the backseat, crying tears even the moon would envy.
I press my palm to the window as the city blurs—every streetlamp a fleeting kiss. My dress shimmers with the night’s last secrets, and my heart races ahead of the driver. I’m soaked in gratitude, drunk on the ache of a moment that’ll never come again. The road hums beneath me, and I’m both here and already gone.
What I'm Into: Discarded heels, Teardrop constellations, Bridge silhouettes at midnight, Echoes of shared laughter, Vanilla perfume phantoms
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