i surround myself with more ghosts than people. they may be invisible, but at least they listen.

my fingers, determined to kiss your edges until they become smooth to the touch. your skin, begging for the memory of kindness. we wear each other perfectly.

*talking to a gay couple*

It sucks that we miss people like that. You think you’ve accepted that someone is out of your life, that you’ve grieved and it’s over, and then bam. One little thing, and you feel like you’ve lost that person all over again.

‘tell me of a great tragedy.’ i could not look at you. i did not have the right words to dictate us, the way we crumbled apart. the notion of storytelling made me wish we had never met.