May 30
Listening to Lana Del Rey while I write. Imagining the two of us in the back seat of the car while the driver takes us to your house. You leave me to argue alone, while you're more focused on what you're going to do to me when we arrive. Your hand sliding up my thigh, completely ignoring the driver. I'm seething with anger, but besides being my fuel, you're the only one who can calm me down. I get lost looking into your eyes, wishing your hand would slide up a little more... Not knowing if I want to get to our destination quickly or stay there with you. -Lily T.
