call it fate. call it destiny. whatever it is, the traces of his finger tips
stain my body like a temporary tattoo that won't ever fade,
the sound of his voice still sends shivers down my spine and i
cannot deny that in this moment, we are beautiful. the sky
is low the smoke is blinding i am coughing
because i have lost my inhaler somewhere in my bag but we
are beautiful. he says that he doesn't need anyone to survive and i
do not respond because the words are lost to him anyway, i
cannot try to reignite a fire that has already been put out but i can
continue to get burned off of second hand cigarettes that have been
accidentally lit. when i told you i was clean you didn't believe me.
when you told me you were through with her i didn't believe you.
faith is a five letter word that is non-existent and useless in our
relationship. we binge drink we chain smoke we laugh loudly and try
to pretend that happiness is attainable through joints as big as
king kong's fingers. if your mother were here she'd smile and look
the other way. if mine were her she'd pretend she didn't know
my name. we're so ****** up babe, the other day you told me that
the worst thing in the world was to be dead, said that i brought
you back to life. you could call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever
you want; i call it resurrection.
(h.l.)
this is such a mess i'm laughing
"give me some 501's jeans on and roll joints bigger than King Kong’s fingers"
-young, wild and free; bruno mars, wiz khalifa, snoop dog