the ice sliced the street while counting the paced steps under my breath. we're all here for the temporary feeling — the things that kept us alive, the books that were written, the songs that were sang. your demitasse of cold coffee and glass of sangria with fruits that was drenched in the cold blood of wine. the intervals of your horrible sanity, the tingling edges of your pulse and the pain in its very unusual degree. the infinite possibilities of what can be taken away from you until you actually run out of things to write about or realizing that nothing is meant to last for more than lightyears away in time.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
the ice sliced the street while counting the paced steps under my breath. we're all here for the temporary feeling — the things that kept us alive, the books that were written, the songs that were sang. your demitasse of cold coffee and glass of sangria with fruits that was drenched in the cold blood of wine. the intervals of your horrible sanity, the tingling edges of your pulse and the pain in its very unusual degree. the infinite possibilities of what can be taken away from you until you actually run out of things to write about or realizing that nothing is meant to last for more than lightyears away in time.
- please stay, i want to write about you.
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