First loves slip between our fingers and into the air of our past.
I can’t pull myself away from writing.
What else is there to say, except love makes little sense?
How can Frank Ocean truly leave behind what once felt so good?
“Real love, I’m searching for a real love.”
“Why see the world, when you got the beach?”
“We’re behaving like teenagers.”
Frank Ocean chooses himself with his boundaries, making him an anomaly.