if i would try i would feel...
heres some sketchy shit that i need to rip out of my notebook. most of it is recent but i dont feel like writing for a long time. most of it is pussy cry baby shit but oh well.
my heart remaining constantly happy and full foreshadows that in due time the sharp end of cupids arrow will relinquish any of my chances at true love
you were always so fragile and uncertain. Just the thought of me cutting causes your glass jaw to drop, shattering to thousands of pieces in the dirt
you were one in a million but i chose two
it's funny when your hand is out of reach my razor lets itself out of the drawer
and i cant just throw the past away pretending that descriptive obesessions of your face did not omit the ink from hundreds of pens
many times my skin has breathed across the surfaces of knives, scaredly awaiting the sickening pleasure of casting a permanent after-birth mark, but the undying need for your overall approval
has kept the blades from reaching the 7th layer. When your eyes scan my body for past mistakes I want them to be done inspecting before the first blink. My hand so close to committing sin but the vivid image of your jaw dropping influences the decision to release my grip on the handle.
beautiful meadows falling victim to flames are the closest things to a mirror that you've ever had
everytime the flowers crumble and shrivel to ashes you notice the unwanted cracks in your lips
everytime rain falls a couple drops short of managing the flames you shed a tear and the stinging sensation of salt and mascura in open wounds becomes more then just a feeling seen in the movies
i have more but fuck it i have not near enough time and i dont want to flood peoples friends lists.
my bday is in 2 days. 16...shit. rock on everyone please.
my heart remaining constantly happy and full foreshadows that in due time the sharp end of cupids arrow will relinquish any of my chances at true love
you were always so fragile and uncertain. Just the thought of me cutting causes your glass jaw to drop, shattering to thousands of pieces in the dirt
you were one in a million but i chose two
it's funny when your hand is out of reach my razor lets itself out of the drawer
and i cant just throw the past away pretending that descriptive obesessions of your face did not omit the ink from hundreds of pens
many times my skin has breathed across the surfaces of knives, scaredly awaiting the sickening pleasure of casting a permanent after-birth mark, but the undying need for your overall approval
has kept the blades from reaching the 7th layer. When your eyes scan my body for past mistakes I want them to be done inspecting before the first blink. My hand so close to committing sin but the vivid image of your jaw dropping influences the decision to release my grip on the handle.
beautiful meadows falling victim to flames are the closest things to a mirror that you've ever had
everytime the flowers crumble and shrivel to ashes you notice the unwanted cracks in your lips
everytime rain falls a couple drops short of managing the flames you shed a tear and the stinging sensation of salt and mascura in open wounds becomes more then just a feeling seen in the movies
i have more but fuck it i have not near enough time and i dont want to flood peoples friends lists.
my bday is in 2 days. 16...shit. rock on everyone please.