soft grunge is so tempting tho
- waitress: i'm sorry we're all out of mozzarella sticks
- waitress: sir please stop cyring
to get to sleep
i count the number of times
you forgot to say i love you too,
i stitched the names of all the
movies we watched together into
my bottom lip,
hoping I could taste your laughter
one more time,
but we both know it’s better if
you stayed gone because the spot
you used to sleep is taken by
men who won’t leave the lights on
long enough to tell me my eyes
but they do it any ways,
i realized i don’t need you, but
my fingers are getting cold and my
legs miss yours wrapped in them,
to get to sleep,
i count the number of times i
was afraid to say i love you first
in the wrinkles of my pillow,
but you never liked
the way my hair smelled like
cigarettes and you
swore i was pretty but you
closed your eyes when
we kissed and no amount
of boys with straight
teeth and questionable morals
could ever make me
feel better than your fingertips
on my bruised skin,
I swore i would love you forever
so im taking shots
of cheap alcohol and biting your
name into his lip,
i hope you remember me in the
wrinkles on your bed
and the hair dye on your bathtub ledge
and ill remember you as rooftops
alone and wishing I was dead ill remember you | fragilefuck (via fragilefuck)
Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.