Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Butterflies


Remember that feeling when you see him and your stomach's all fluffy and funny like butterflies are fluttering in your visceral meadows? Well being brokenhearted is like that. Except that the butterflies are dying and all the stench and decomposition get stuck in your heart, poisoning your core. Every. Single. Day.


Monday, December 29, 2014

122914

I cry whenever I think of you. And him.
And everything we could've done together if only I was him.