come on, skinny love.

come on skinny love, just last the year, pour a little salt, we were never here, my my my,

staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer

i tell my love to wreck it all, tear the ropes and let me fall, my my my, right in this moment, the order’s tall

and i told you to be patient, i told you to be fine, and i told you to be balanced, and i told you to be kind.

and in the morning i’ll be with you, but it’ll be a different kind. i’ll be holding all the tickets, you’ll be holding all the fines.

come on skinny love, what happened here?

we suckled on the hope in light brassieres.

note to self: don’t listen to Bon Iver.

too many memories, too many painful memories of beautiful moments of sunsets in cars of your hand intertwined with mine, or from holding that same hand as we passed the drugs back and forth on your balcony, ten stories up

secluded and secretive

happy and insulated

high from the smoke, high from the pure bliss from just sitting next to you.

jesus christ, tim, I miss you.

come on, skinny love.

oh bon iver, you speak to my heart. you flash memories of colorado through my mind’s eye.

id rather be moving toward mountains

i’d rather be telling you all my secrets, letting you see my fragility, letting your hands slip into mine, letting me know that there is still some beauty left in the world.

but i’m going to wake up alone, while you wake up with her, i’m going to self medicate with caffeine and starving, smoking and hoping that I still cross your mind when you smell the air changing to autumn.

i’d rather kiss you in the morning than kiss a boy i barely know, kiss a boy that i will never tell my secrets, kiss a boy that won’t run in the woods without shoes with me, or give up everything for a day’s adventure.

i miss you.

i don’t want to adventure alone. i only want to explore with you.

dont you love waking up after dreaming of your ex boyfriend cheating on you for months with ugly bitches?

i do.

it’s fucking fantastic.

where the FUCK is my weed.

got back together with tim.

unexpected.

still trying to get to 90, simply because I can.

This time I’m suuuuuupppper secretive. It’s almost disgusting. But I’m going to do it anyway.