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Chipped, cherry toned toes, pressing across the cheap, linoleum flooring, She's wearing nothing but an over-sized sweater from a college she's never, ever been. And her hands hit her hips, her grin leaves **** those smoky-stained calcium cuties, wrapped by chapped pythons. In which, you have to admit that 90's bob bouncing is as killer as cancer. Coffee table eyes, glancing, gliding between every take, she lifts the bottom of that balled-up, decade-old sweater, revealing a tuft of brunette hair; a place where you can touch her; where you can escape and stop lying to yourself, you nihilistic nothing. II. Breathing the cold, in the murky-dark, she, laying on a decadent country, huddled in my authoritarian arms, we stared at stars, streaking across, waiting to escape like them, instead of relating to those already dead beacons.
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Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
A Tuft of Brunette Hair
Chipped, cherry toned toes, pressing across the cheap, linoleum flooring, She's wearing nothing but an over-sized sweater from a college she's never, ever been. And her hands hit her hips, her grin leaves **** those smoky-stained calcium cuties, wrapped by chapped pythons. In which, you have to admit that 90's bob bouncing is as killer as cancer. Coffee table eyes, glancing, gliding between every take, she lifts the bottom of that balled-up, decade-old sweater, revealing a tuft of brunette hair; a place where you can touch her; where you can escape and stop lying to yourself, you nihilistic nothing. II. Breathing the cold, in the murky-dark, she, laying on a decadent country, huddled in my authoritarian arms, we stared at stars, streaking across, waiting to escape like them, instead of relating to those already dead beacons.
joshua-haines
Written by
26/M/American
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
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