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I'm tired of boys that taste like vodka and cigarette smoke. I'm tired of boys that taste like dark secrets and midnight moonlight. I'm tired of boys that taste like regret. He is salt and soap and sunshine and I have never felt safer than when I'm in his arms. But I'm scared to push, scared to ask for more, scared he'll let me go. I don't know what to do. I tell myself half a loaf is better than no bread, and I'm tiring of begging for scraps. But Lord and Lady, I think I love him.
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I'm never really sure ... Did you break me? Or did you just reveal my hidden cracks?
Drunks texts I've never sent to my ex
Jack-O-Lantern
In honour of Halloween, and a recent run in with my ex-boyfriend, I'm writing a piece called Jack-O-Lantern. Because I know in excruciating detail what it feels like to be scooped out and empty inside, with a smile carved into your face.
