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carve your name into my soul again as you lull me with your kind words you never seem to mean.

is it okay if i puke on your shoes?

i’m okay, it’s just withdrawal from severely breaking routine.

later that night when we are at your place and you’re bleaching the white clean, you insist we get wine drunk.

you first.

you(drunk) suggest we make out. you think it would “be fun” but i hope it means something. you forget about it. i don’t. this doesn’t mean anything.

where did you get so much glitter? why are you throwing it all at me?

more wine? no. i don’t want to be lame. yes.

why are you so close? you dare me?

you must be pretty bored if you think kissing me is gonna be any fun.

i say i feel sick again, i just don’t want to ruin this. i can always find a way to ruin anything, but hey, in the end i wasn’t the one that fucked it up this time!

maybe i’ll carve your name into my skin too, with one of the thorns from the roses you have in the old vase on your dresser. maybe you think i’m joking.

do you think i'm joking? or that i'm just the joke?

you can take a picture of me, keep it for the next time you decide i’m “too fucking weird” for you and ditch me for another decade, it might happen sooner than i thought.

Published by celler

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