This thing, like a paintbrush on my fingertips, seeks solace in my bed. It purrs at the slightest touch-
I never could quite wrap my head around how we find comfort from inhuman sources. But here we are at 4 AM, as my best thoughts slip away into the forgotten night. It yawns and stretches next to me; I may as well fall asleep while I still can.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:30 AM UTC
This thing, like a paintbrush on my fingertips, seeks solace in my bed. It purrs at the slightest touch-
I never could quite wrap my head around how we find comfort from inhuman sources. But here we are at 4 AM, as my best thoughts slip away into the forgotten night. It yawns and stretches next to me; I may as well fall asleep while I still can.
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