I have myself a interest in smooth edges, subtle features. she wore a dress. I lost my self in monday mixers and beautiful creatures. I couldnt find my keys. she loved my work, poets could make the best teachers.
we kissed outside of a bar beside a man much older. his smoke in her face beer makes the night warm and her body much colder. share my desire to die slow. I couldnt let go of my girlfriend but she still wanted space for me to holder.
my mistake,
I cannot pretend that I am a decent person. luckily none of my friends or lovers are aware I have this account so I assume its all fine.