࣪ ִֶָ†.

Mad and vulnerable and a bit aroused by memories

When I think of her my heart rate changes, my pupils dilate and my breath catches. It's a physiological response to a mental image. I am not just remembering her I am reliving the feeling of her and my body reacts to her memory as if she's present. I am physically affected by a thought and I am vulnerable

We are all a little in love with the dead version of our loved ones

Get innnn, if the surgery kills us at least our names go on the same toe tag, I already asked and they said fine

Pressing my ear to your chest and counting your heartbeats like rosary beads

Another 24 hours to fill with the same meaningless distractions I used yesterday and the variety is just overwhelming

My little split lip

Wearing white to keep the stains visible

wokr up with bleeding gummies

Sitting in your lap with a butterfly needle already taped to the back of your hand, the little wings holding it flat against your vein and there's a tube of dark red blood hanging off the end filling up this tiny collection vial and I'm holding your hand up to the light so I can watch it swirl. You tell me it's full and I say I know, I just like looking at it. It's so dark it's almost purple, and that's yours, that came from you.