act i.his eyes search yours,looking for some sort of sign--some sort of way to knowthat you're okay."im alright," you say.and he should know. he shoul..
it's 2 a.m. and all I can remember is the sound of your withering gasps and the clawing of the words up your throat. my alarm clock is one of those ol..
p.s.or does that go at the bottombecause it's supposed to bea fleeting glance from a womanwith stones for eyes anda head full of New York cities?p.s. ..
i remember the dayyou caught the windinside your arms andkissed its cheek oncebefore letting it go.you told me that ifi really loved him iwould let hi..
we werered nail polishcracking underpressure.we werethe peeling paintof the walls;the shiftingfoundation.we were once theknucklespopping loosefrom sag..