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.
