A Collection of Spectacles


I remember when you talked about the value of life after your friend passed away, and I hope all you said then still resonates when you are up late and alone.

I should run away from the comfort I get when I feel like you possess me, for the betterment of us both.

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After drinking our daily pint, I became an arrogant bitch. Then I cried on and off throughout the day thinking about all the needles I shoved in your side. I hope more than anything that I haven’t shut the door on you, unclothed and emotionally open. I want to sit in your brain and touch anything you’ll let me. To be trapped in that wondrous maze forever would be an honor.

The last guy wouldn’t kiss me because he wasn’t attracted enough to me, so now the act just makes me uncomfortable, even when I want it. I flip my phone front screen facing down out of habit after having had too many fights over who was saying what to me. I can’t always cum because sometimes I dissociate which is frustrating because fucking you is like a dream. Here’s the part when I unfairly drop you in a field full of trauma and my poor decisions. It’s hard to feel like I’m in competition with everyone else to get to know you. I want to be held bare (what a new feeling) and I’ll write a thousand posts to prove it.

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