Slunched
Now I know why we’re not together: I stand in the middle, shouting, cigarette between my ring finger and pinky, ordering chaos to orbit around; you, you sit at the corner, Michael Buble… Continue reading
Now I know why we’re not together: I stand in the middle, shouting, cigarette between my ring finger and pinky, ordering chaos to orbit around; you, you sit at the corner, Michael Buble… Continue reading
white socks, peeking trepid ‘tween cut jeans and green Chucks, the face sewn on its pure fabric taunts my- self as my eyes pretend absentmindedly to dart in its direction; his white… Continue reading