“I like flaws and feel more comfortable around people who have them. I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.” —Augusten Burroughs
Have I mentioned recently that I fucking HATE people?
My day just opened up if anyone wants to shoot
I don’t even…
like a gunshot wound to the gut
I realized your face is fading
I’m losing your scars, your crooked teeth, the sounds you make in your sleep
I tried to hold on to every indent in your skin
to the way your callused hands felt on my thighs
but that cunt called reality
prying my fingers from the nostalgia
and it’s getting too exhausting to argue
when she tells me to let go
…no. That’s a moronic question.