Intrinsic for existence: are his words (or lack thereof). My teacher is pretty rad; Baby is my divinity; Stricken classroom, the holy trinity; but to me, he will never cease to be, the brightest morning star. The sharpness of his corona, his halo, the aura- He blessed me with his beckoning light. I pray throughout my day, worshipping through the holy night. His body, clad with a pinstriped couture of open skies and of seas, my devotion, pure and as born-bred faith has guided me to my knees *winking emoji 100 x*
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