you can trust me secrets wishes desires all kept under my lock and key they can’t hurt you not unless they take my entry and steal what was ours to keep i would never betray my own word only if you abandon me the depths of my own knowledge are often so bittersweet filled with the voices of a thousand murmurs, sayings that are mine to keep admit it once, i’ll lock it away never for anyone to peek
When I say I miss him, I'm not saying there is something missing with us. This isn't the scramble for the final piece of the puzzle we're determined to finish on Christmas day, Every part of you is perfect for me in every single way, I just miss my friend who I would spend every day, with.
And when I say I still love him, I'm not saying I'm in love with him. If I was in love with him I probably wouldn't have left him because that would have been an odd thing to do. I just loved the man and really still do, In the same way I love my friends and family too.
And when I say I want to see him still, I don't mean every day. I understand that isn't realistic and would probably take the **** a bit, But I'd just like to sit, have a coffee, With the man I use to love.
"Lover boy", the unheard whisper across the pillow. The beautiful grey eyes that draw you in The silver toung to rival the devil himself My lover boy My Anarchist so clad in black Let the world roll like water off a ducks back
My lover my angel my fae Please stay till the break of day Let me be awoken in your arms, knowing that to you, there is no harm. Please my lover boy.
Please my lover boy come back to bed Least you fall and crack your head Please my gorgeous angel you must understand the responsibility falls not in your hands.
I had three cups of coffee for breakfast. I slept in a t-shirt two sizes too big, and I took one too many Adderall (i think). I sat at the table with the same book I opened a few months ago, reading the same few pages from yesterday, hoping that today would be the day it all made sense (much like you). I started to wash the dishes, but I only got a quarter of the way done before I ran out of soap, much like my effort, or lack thereof. On these days, my anxiety is less of an adjective and more like a state of being. Everything has become exhausting, waking up, going to sleep. Yet, I do it all so well, and nothing seems to satisfy the insatiable hunger of the constant chatter in the back of my head that screams, “Go” leave this place with dishes in the sink, and half-filled coffee cups behind and never return.