a love letter to nobody in particular– (Read: ‘Vous m’avez brisé le coeur, le bijou de ma vie.’)
maybe it’s the squiggle in your hips when you stretch and mew in my warm bed before you’ve actually woken …
maybe it’s the squiggle in your hips when you stretch and mew in my warm bed before you’ve actually woken …
wander with me dear
fingers laced in bated breath
burning with passion
Three friends on my giddy ride home from practice. Seven cars in my driveway and twelve relatives they belong to. …
Icy and golden, I dare not taste that sour liquid for fear of the skin-to-skin contact that makes me humble, …
A vase inhabited by a ghost that pinches you occasionally when you forget to water your plants. A mirror housing …
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