(no subject)
This morning on my way out the house from his arms I stole a spray of your perfume. The scent still lingers on me now, mixed with the smell of sex (lots of build up and no release) and the way my hair is starting to dread on its own. It reminds me of the clean sheets we used to share and the nights I would spend awake lying next to you. The days you would hold me as I sobbed uncontrollably overmotherandlovers or other inconsistencies. Our cat as a kitten, small, whiteassnow. Our story does not have an unhappy ending, and our story will never end.