toast always falls butter side down because of a constant length from table to floor and relative consistency in speed at which it flies off the table. why do we burn bread in order to make it taste good? we humans must be weird. toast is hard to get right without making it black. i like whipped butter.
Your hand is cold as I hold it in mine.
We raise glasses to health and prosperity.
You lower defenses as we grow warmer.
I want nothing less than to know every little bit about you. I want to know every hiding spot, every secret, every curve.
Your laugh is so fake, and I see right through it. It’s not malice, but insecurities.
We’re in a crowd of people, but we are so alone, because no one can see you the way I do.
Because you won’t let them.
So stiff, in formal attire and dressed up to be so perfect.
You’re a beautiful, blundering human, not a machine.
But you won’t let anyone else know that.
So we raise our glasses, to empty hopes.
toast to you and me
a toast to the past few months
the wonder
the intellect
the questioning
you challenged me, everything i had assumed, known.
i’ve never met anyone like you
you changed my life
i hope you change the world
so here’s a toast
to you
and how you make me feel.
toast always falls butter side down because of a constant length from table to floor and relative consistency in speed at which it flies off the table. why do we burn bread in order to make it taste good? we humans must be weird. toast is hard to get right without making it black. i like whipped butter.
cinnamon, yummy, happy, christmas, joshua, breakfast, anorexia, yes, no, don’t, maybe, it’s not so bad, fuck fuck fuck, diet coke