Inspired. Copy. Paste. Scratch that. Erase. Deep breath, begin. The lace ribbon waist was a waste, look up at her face and trace the white space between freckles and scars and whisper when I see your eyes I see shooting stars. Like a moth to a light, must fight off another night of the temptation. […]
I’ve become too acquainted with I miss you. I’ve become far too familiar with goodbye. I’ve replaced see you tomorrow with it was nice catching up. I’ve been trying not to lose sight of why.