x; the bruises on my thighs are the same size as your fingertips. but i guess that's just a coincidence. [they won't fade away...] xx; i wonder what you'd think if you saw me now. xxx; your whispered words, the stubble on your face and the colour your eyes used to be still make me cry some nights. but only some. xxxx; no matter how many times i wash my sheets, they still smell like you. like your cheap cologne. and the cheap whiskey you tried to get me to drink. like your breathy moans against my neck. you won't wash away like your footprints did that day on the beach. xxxxx; i wish i hadn't been drunk that night you called me. singing the itsybitsy spider and we all. fall. down until you hung up on me. i told the dial tone how much i loved it. i told the dial tone how much i missed it. xxxxxx; the dial tone didn't answer... |
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Comments
This sounds like the kind of stuff I write inside my head.
I absolutely loved it. It's amazing how a few short lines can mean so much
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Sarcasm, once thought to be the refuge of weak minds, has in fact been proven to be the refuge of the brilliant mind fed up with all the weak minds in the world as an alternative to just killing off every idiot that makes a stupid comment.
I cannot or will not attempt to try and soothe the emotion that you put into this because sometimes the rawest of emotion can be the greatest of teachers. Beautifully done.
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Pity for the guilty is treason to the innocent.
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You can't swim in a town this shallow. you'll most assuredly drown tomorrow.
I miss you. We should talk more.
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I want to see the light leave your eyes.
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Pity for the guilty is treason to the innocent.
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I want to see the light leave your eyes.
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Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to b i t e .
"I reach for her hand, and lay it on my chest, as my lungs pant anxiously."©
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I want to see the light leave your eyes.
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Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to b i t e .
"I reach for her hand, and lay it on my chest, as my lungs pant anxiously."©
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