warcut

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these days i have been fighting migraines, wearing sparkly skirts and trying not to cry and trying not to kiss all these boys that i half love, half want to be with, but could never give myself to.

these days i want to talk to c--- again, even though that would be a very delicate thing. a perhaps dangerous thing. i just need to "set things right" and be able to not wonder.





i don't believe in the sun.
sometimes i believe in me.
i believe in the moon
the tide
and the anger
you paint me with.
but i don't believe in
memories or
the way you move your mouth.
i don't believe in you.
i don't believe in you.










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