his smile is so perfect. crooked and smug, but perfect for him.
march’s last day feels far too unsettling. like the end of an era. the end of you.
you remember that my favorite color is orange. and no organs like a sunset, but orange like a papaya. you remember that my favorite food is pasta and that i hate the taste of steak. you remember my two childhood dogs and nickname my mother told you on a random weekend back home. you remember me in a way i only wish to remember myself. you remember me beautiful.
peace is white like my dress. i just wish my dress didn’t have those horrific blood stains.
the most tragic moment of my life, was realizing my own Cassandra complex. realizing no matter how many times i told people it wouldn’t work out, they wouldn’t believe me.
i am terrified of failure. yet right now it is all i can produce.
it feels like i’ve lived three and a half lives since yesterday.
i can tell he’s mine because he whispers my name every night just before he falls asleep.
hate seeps into my bones quicker than the chill in the air.
i wish happiness and i could get just 5 more minutes together.
our eyes lock, and your breath hitches, and my mouth is a magnet pulling pulling pulling me to you.