sábado, 29 de junho de 2013

~

Hope was propping me up when I met him. As soon as I saw him I wanted to taste his lips, so I did. I was ecstatic for at least six weeks. Hope was placed in his hands when he caught me. 
He asked me if it hurt, I told his "Christ it did."
And it did, when he left me every night.

I feel beautiful when he says I am beautiful, but he is more beautiful.
I feel heavenly when he says I am heavenly, but he is more heavenly.

Can't feel disappointed when his hips are that wide but I still feel lonely and screwed up inside, and the taste of his tongue, it makes me wish I'd given up smoking.

He was a big, big guy, he had big ideas, like how my heart should be free but I don't want it to be, I want him, here beside me.

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