Sometimes I wish you loved the way a dog loves: roll onto your back, your ribcage is mine. Pale belly exposed, (the fragility of your organs as an eternal symbol of how risky it is to feel). If perhaps your were more childish and less composed than maybe you would, but for hell's sake please don't stop wearing books in your back pocket, never stop ironing the collar of your shirt so that we can stay antiseptic together. This is just one of the symptoms I know, not seeing people for what they truly are, but projecting them onto your bedroom ceiling: hazy with emotions in some places, and sharp around the tips of their fingers.
Stay out of my diascope, I beg of you.
"hazy with emotions in some places, and sharp around the tips of their fingers." perfection.
ReplyDeleteWhat. You're amazing
ReplyDeleteI like mostly every word of this.
ReplyDeleteStolen.