(no subject)
Boom ...bass line. Outside of your one room apartment. Sitting on the steps. We listen to the music from the other side of the door. Echoing all the familiar sounds we've memorized inside our heads. So we orchestrate our conversation around the bass line and our words seem to flow as though they had been practiced. Maybe they had. Maybe we won't tell. "She's so witty." he thinks. We wait a little longer for the small hand to reach the 12, and you reach for my hand. "Let's get you home." he says, and she just smiles and thinks, "what next?" We never made it home that night. We found somewhere quiet to waste the time. Not caring who is waiting for us at home. The only thing we cared about was that moment in time. The rush of the blood through our body to our head. The numbness we felt had drownd out all the worries we had. Every night should be like this. Any pain should never exist. Let's go through life fuckin scared of the lights and wait in the dark for that hand to reach for us and take us home, only to take advantage of us in the shadows.
This has no relevence.
Jenna
This has no relevence.
Jenna