re:

the taste of my youth rots in between my teeth, all so bittersweet. i bite my tongue and hold my breath to avoid confrontation and i make myself smaller for the benefit of others. a reflection of myself is the note i wrote last year, that’s what i said. and when i look in the mirror i see her i see her and she smiles. always sick go her stomach because thats where it likes to sit, her chest was always heavy because that’s where it likes to sit. do you know someone who will sit with you and listen to you weep? do you know someone who will let you rot in their arms and not be scared by the smell? it’s ironic that i say anything like this as if i have it, but i will be here even if you don’t see me

he put his hand on my chest and remembered i’m a real person and not some object. he tapped a gun to my head and demanded i choke on the taste of love, you can’t repent and repeat