the bed groans under you weight as you slip in bed. warning me that it’s not just me, but that you smell like another woman.
among the thousands of pages i’ve written, i know there is one constant. you are on every single one.
desire is such an ugly thing. pure want disguised in wandering fingertips, fingers laced in hair, and glazed over eyes.
i feel safe and soft in your arms.
our eyes lock, and your breath hitches, and my mouth is a magnet pulling pulling pulling me to you.
the clouds are as angry as i am.
i look forward to the darkness and the quiet. even though i am scared of it, that is the only time i feel something.
we were so close yet so so far. like december and january are.
heaven is over now. the party got shut down. the amphitheater is empty. the bars deserted. usually so full of life but now; deathly silent. but they’re waiting.
if you hurt me, i’ll walk away as easy as i walked in.
I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT