slip from our fingers like a haze of barely-there smoke,
orihar citeretsidste år
you’ll bleed yourself dry for me one question at a time—no passing. i’ll lick your wounds
orihar citeretsidste år
airless,
upside-down
orihar citeretsidste år
“that you had every reason to lock, bolt, & paint your door shut, but you still had enough space in that trusting heart of yours to leave it ajar & brave the cold air for me.”
orihar citeretsidste år
somewhere along the way, he forgot to mention the swarms of flies & wasps that would eventually come to cover everything we made together. the spoilage of all this misguided longing.
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