fifteen days to sober. (the 4 o’clock free write)
The first day I met him he looked at me like I created the stars
The second, he made my smile feel like cashmere being stretched by the butterflies that took time to bubble in my stomach
I didn’t see him on day three, but thoughts alone made time seem holiday.
After six nights, the cleanup crews came. They had to remind me of my own name.
I managed to blame the absence of his voice, which I swore to be all scents lavender and sage,
On the wrinkles of my knees.
butterflies don’t belong in bellies no way.
fifteen days to sober.
New Orleans - the 9th Ward
Anonymous asked: You're a busy person (assumed, good or bad, we'll figure it out): How does one go about liking/talking (to) someone when they physically don't have anything to offer them but time? Its my most precious resource..
start with a playlist, send me some music. decide if your time is worth it after i send some back. (answer delayed, all the blame to failed vocabulary)
Note to self:
Their reality is not your truth.
Learn who we were.
*The kings of your makeup never gave up-in-or-out.
His eyes can’t read what his heart can’t seek.
Forever is always too soon.
Scratch and peel and melt away logic and allow sense to enamor your wounds.
Sleepy eyes, desperate ears and dizzy feet.
"Remember to forget, there’s no memory worth the weight of regret."
my inner seams