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Lottie Mar 2021
I cannot describe the quiet in my head when you speak to me.
******, my neck lilts to the side just a little. My ears move towards the sound: the rumble, the promise of soft vibration that I just know will settle the buzzing under my skin.
     My lips part, sometimes in the faintest of smiles; as though the taste of your voice could be pressed to my mouth like a kiss. I ache with the need to feel how you form your words. I ache to feel the movement of your mouth while you whisper and mutter, giggle and moan. I do not care where, I just know I have to feel this.

Do your hands move with the same grace as your voice? Will your body grant me the same stillness as your words?

When you hold me, Darling Boy, will your arms gift me the same safety that your voice gives my mind?
Lottie Jul 2018
Live and laugh, broken people.
Your heart is yours to play with.
Lottie Jan 2018
And I mean nothing,
Hurts more than the sting
Of misery that tingles
Across one's neck
Where the breath of your loved one Should be.
Long distance is not so much about miles. You could be on the wrong side of the bed, darling boy, and I would be consumed by this lonely ache.
Lottie Nov 2017
The weight of a dead soul has settled above my chest, as though it was trying to crawl out of the cavity.

It gave everything it had, and yet it was not enough to release it.

And now it lies still, invisible to the naked eye but rotting when I close my eyes.
Lottie Oct 2017
I'm not asking you to understand why I don't want you to use this word to describe me. I'm asking you to refrain from doing so because it makes me feel like I'm getting in the car to go and find her again. Its reminding me of when I found her standing waist deep in a river crying because Michael said he wanted to die. Or when I helped her break up with her boyfriend because every time she'd tried to before, he'd grabbed a razor. Or crying in France because I needed her to take care of me for once. Or when he jumped on his computer because we borrowed it. Or when her parents shouted at each other. Or when she ran away.

I give up.
Lottie Jul 2017
I am a  catalyst of discomfort and yet I am asked to stay.

Please just hate me, it'd be easier for all of us.
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