Even though it’s been almost a year since we’ve last made contact, I can’t help but still think of you whenever the month of November comes around—it has you written all over it, it smells like you, tastes like you, brings back all the urges I’ve ever had to be with you in the only way you allowed me to be with you (but nothing satisfied me more than that) and somehow it just eases you back into my skin. You always had a way of finding your way there, and I always had a place waiting for you, every time.
But I hate that because in a way, it’s like you’ve won. And all you had to do was open the door, step right in, and slip your way (in &) out just before sunrise and in the simplest way you could while leaving me with a heart of complications.
And even though I always knew we would never be much, I guess the hope was/is and maybe will always sort of still be there, as long as the attraction is, as long as the thread still feels connected.. or as long as my heart finally decides it’s time to let go.
In the meantime, who knows when that will be. All I know is that our former morning meetings of coffee and tea to our secret nights of trysts and drunken debauchery is something I still keep with me whenever I think of you in memory and will most likely always come back to haunt me whenever the wind starts to get chilly, and the leaves start to change colors. Because since you, November has never been the same.
i just want to feel the spines of your fingerprints down the side of my cheek. and maybe if we’re lucky then our ridges will fit together like puzzle pieces and my loneliness will have another grip. my fingers are sore and tired from the black notes that whirl around my brain and fly off the page. i’ve peeled my fingerprints clean off and maybe that’s a secret that i just told the world, but you wouldn’t understand until you’ve held my hand. please. just hold my hand.
me:oh, i'm such a good child. i don't smoke, i don't drink and i don't do drugs. i don't sneak out to go partying. my grades are quite good. when i compare myself to those in my class..wow, i'm almost a role model. my parents must be so proud of me!
mum:WHY DON'T I EVER SEE YOU STUDY? ALL YOU DO IS SIT ON THE INTERNET! YOU SHOULD LOOK AT OTHER STUDENTS! YOU DON'T EVEN HELP ME WITH ANYTHING! NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE CARES ABOUT HOW MUCH I HAVE TO DO! NONE OF YOU HELP ME! YOU ARE ALL SO UNGRATEFUL!
“Your hearts are like my hands, some days all they do is tremble. I too, at times, am filled with fear. But like a hallway, just find the strength to walk through it. Walk through this with me.”—Anis Mojgani (via vavin)
"There you asked it of me, again to love you in black and white to muffle your cries with my lips and to pluck the thorns from your soul with my fingertips. But you said you wouldn’t leave me with the dark to confide in and the softness of your promises still rests against the ladder of your escape.”