October 2011
1 post
i hate myself
i’m taking you home right now so i can get some oxygen and quit while i’m ahead when really i want to watch the way my sweater makes your shoulders look while you are glancing anywhere but my face and whispering words i can’t hear like fragility like subtlety like a girl like the way her fingers used to trace the details of my spine like the way i know your pale skin would blend into my sheets...