#sistine

Something I’ve been playing with and I’d like to do a few one shots of it—an older Mike with his kiddo Sistine. Maybe others later but definitely her. I have 2 versions in mind: one for 87 verse and one for 03. Definitely an all fluff type of story. I know turtle kids aren’t everyone’s cup of tea but the idea has always fascinated me.

i never believed in all those saccharine words stained in rose oil and moonlight above love and how it molded around you, how it lifted you up and carried you away. even worse was the bitter caramel stuck between the teeth of people whose love had left fingernail dents in their skin and an imprint of their body in the pavement. but here i am, at 12:06 am swathed in my cleanest duvet sitting alone in the dark and somehow all the nothingness i see still looks and tastes and sounds like you, as if you are a ghost haunting my bedroom, the essence of you on the rack in my spice cabinet, your smile mixed into my detergent, soaked into the seams of my old jeans. you've never even seen my laundry room, but you're in it. i'm starting to realize that loving someone means they live inside of things.