Whispers carry.A shy glance and a reluctant touch- he doesn't talk much. And although he seems to have all his bearings, he stutters with the innocence of a child. His hand melts in mine, like a first date touch. And his heart is erratic against my chest, assuring me he can circulate just as litte oxygen as I. It seems so new, like a part I've repeatedly skipped. This is the scene where the candle flickers and the flame ignites my heart.Whispers carry.
Choas.
Oasis.
SirenAnd So TypicallyHe's barely a legal piece of meat. He's hardly an adult. He's immature to the point where you find it hard to be around him unless the lights are hit. He's also every little bit of life that you just can't let go of. You grit your teeth each time you tell him, with your dirty fingernails digging into his neck. All he does is laugh, but you can feel his pulse quicken. You often wonder why he's the crystallized white line to your nasal cavities.And So Typically
It could be his obsession with Fight Club and Brad Pitt. The posters of Brad's chiseled body, that ruggedness you certainly don't have must do something for him, you tell yourself.
| The world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me. |
Where have I been?!
I Have To Pee
--
Whats up?
But wishing stars,
and little men from mars.
--
Drown in your dreams.
My existance; my life.
--
Emo always meant emotional. Any kind of art or music should be emotional. If its not, than it's pretty much just a jingle selling bleach or pizza. - Frank
When life gives you lemons, YOU MAKE A CAIPIRINHA DAMN IT!
--
i found you
*project-improve
Previous Page12Next Page