summer is real cute until every fuckin type of insect comes out of the 8th circle of hell
"NO MUM GET OUT MY ROOM. NO. I KNOW THAT BOTTLE IS EMPTY. YES I KNOW. NOOO! PUT IT DOWN. PUT. IT. DOWN. I LIKE THAT BOTTLE THERE. I DON’T CARE THAT IT’S EMPTY. LEAVE MY ROOM PLEASE. NO STOP TOUCHING STUFF. OH MY GOD JUST LEEEAVVVVEEEEE."
It’s amazing how at one point in our lives we become extremely close with someone and then they become a complete stranger. You will pass by them without a word. Without a single acknowledging look. This person, who once knew you so well, who once knew your fears, your desires, your dreams, your past is now walking right past you, seeing right through you.
Your lips brush up against mine,
ever so softly that I barely register the touch as physical.
I am used to volcanoes.
I am used to getting burned.
I am not used to
the way you caress my face and cradle the nape of my neck.
Like I am delicate,
Like I am something you don’t want to break.
You are mist.
You are the phenomenon of small water droplets suspended in air after volcanic activity.
You are the calm after the storm.
You are the dawn after the night.
You are the gentle after the rough.
You are unprecedented, tender love,
And I decide that I can get used to this.