kiso
Your face used to be a canvas on which I would paint emotions, say things to deliberately see you smile, grimace, make you laugh, scream, sigh. It used to be the only thing I ever thought about when I talked to you, making your eyebrows rise to the stars, curling your lips into a simple curve, cause the wrinkles around your eyes.
He shepherds feelings, keeps them in line, makes sure they stay within the limits he sets for them. He makes sure they're all tended to equally, and that they are all reasonably comfortable. Some say he's cold or unfeeling, but he's just good at control, something most of us aren't.
Books books books I want bookshelves in my room more of them I don't have enough of them I need so many books they are my porn they are so beautiful oh gosh now I miss Jennings and home and Affton and Ms. Nelson.
My other half is in Cape Girardeau. Is it okay to say she's my other half to other people? Would they think it's weird? She's my best friend, of course she's my damn other half. I'm not one of those people who has a million other "best friends" and is fake to all of them.
I don't know what to write, because she is the only thing in my head right now. I need her wrapped around me again, I need to be wrapped around her again. Her lips and her hands. I need those things all over me again. This has nothing to do with a shootout but oh hell.
I always wonder what the word is going to be and this time it's chance. I took a chance. Now I don't know what to do. She took a chance. Now I'm head over heels in love with her. I can't explain it. She's my air. Chances are chancy. Now what?
Fuck this. I want to live back in the time where nothing but being a wife was expected of me. I'm not going to go anywhere in life. Why am I even bothering? Nobody would want to marry me. God I just hate everything right now.
This is it, this is what I'm doing to myself. I could really love it here, but I'm so clingy and depressed when she doesn't talk to me or when she doesn't respond because I know she's having fun and I could be too but my whole life stops for her troubles, while she just treats mine with band-aid words.
She gave me that adorable umbrella and it's in my closet right now, as I sit here in this room I hate. I love, it's huge, it's a beautiful clear dome umbrella with cartoon flowers all around the bottom edge. The handle is a lovely curved pink that fits into my hand like hers.
It tears and he cries and it was the only thing he had left of her, something she'd gotten him for his birthday, wrapping the tie in silly Christmas paper, throwing it across the room to him at his surprise party. She was gone now, though, no more silly wrapping paper, no more silk ties. His beautiful little sister was gone.
load more entries