Feb 16, 2024
Puedo ver claramente como te importa una mierda dejar que la ansiedad me consuma por las noches mientras tu duermes plácidamente.
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Puedo ver claramente como te importa una mierda dejar que la ansiedad me consuma por las noches mientras tu duermes plácidamente.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I believe that someday, somebody will love me
I must admit that
No matter how long I wait
It will never be you
I want to be allowed to call you baby
I want you to want to hear me say it
The way I delight in you looking at me
The way I hang onto hearing you really laugh
Or open up
The way I bust a grin all up from the inside out
When you let me hold your hand
The way I linger when I hug you...
I wish that you would delight in me too
...podría ser tu lugar seguro.
-cov
Yes please #leaveme #backwoodslife #fine #thursday #georgia #backwoods #life #calm #solitude (at Warner Robins, Georgia) https://www.instagram.com/p/BvRYw4ngxKt/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ocecqtv8amo6
And you will never feel so pretty And you will never feel this beautiful When I make it there Oh when I make it there
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
You leave the bed and I open my tired eyes. You walk inside the bathroom and I hear the shower being turned on. You turn off the shower and I see you walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your waist. Your hair is wet and I feel an urge to touch it. You get dressed and I turn my gaze towards the ceiling. When you come out from the bathroom for the second time you walk around the bed and sit down by my side. We stare at each other, brown against blue, before you give me a kiss, light as a feather, on my forehead and leave. To prevent the tear threatening to fall, I close my eyes and pull the blanket tighter around me as a shield from the hard truth I someday will experience, and that is that you're going to leave me. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the day after that but it'll happen someday. I just know it.
y'all slap me with a fish if the route isn’t out in 31 august
Names
It matters what you call a thing. It has been three years and sometimes Love still gets jammed up into my throat, resting there, tightly coiled, like some small animal waiting for you to return home again, unwilling to accept your passing, perhaps unable to comprehend what death really means in the end.
But is that really the word for it? I look into the dark blue eyes of my eight-month-old child. Daughter, I call her. My lovely one. Love walks in her like summer wheat fields. Like the smell of wet earth and the sound of the river swelling up over the edge of the bank. Like her golden hair. My husband’s laughter.
What word do I give you, then? Your calloused hands and ordinary face. The pain you carried in your small mouth. Though the heart moves from time to time, when I call out it does not answer me. At times it slinks into the corner (is it slinks?) and rests there. I think it knows you aren’t returning. What is it that it lingers for there in the darkness?
What is the name for that silent vessel inside the body? Those inanimate paperweights of memory surrounded by so much life? I try to study it, losing track at times of where it is crouching, swept up inside the tall grass and heavy trees. Cold sheets and the body of my husband pressed tightly around mine. Lover, I call him.
It matters what you call a thing. It has been three years and sometimes Love still gets stuck there, heavy. But that is not the name for it. For her navy eyes or his giant heart or your heavy one. I’m sorry I could not lift you. Macushla, I will call you. Pulse of my heart. Like orange rust forever settled in the iron. The weight of your hand on my shoulder that will never quite leave me.
--l.a.w.