choni: the falling era
Whimsy and pinning with a splash of first crush nerves.
Diner booths and melting milkshakes. Buzzing neon signs and a feeling that draws a line from the hollow of your throat to the pit of your stomach. There’s a tension there as it pulls you in and splits you right down the middle. There’s a slight tremor there; this ache caught in your chest. It feels like it will never cease. It’s clasped hands and the pang of yearning that courses deep. A mutual sense of longing that reminds you of pale sunsets and soft smiles. It’s teetering on the edge, the precipice, of a moment without knowing what’s on the other side. If anyone will catch you.
It’s leaping, anyway.












