52 writings

xiv.

oh you disgusting ghost. why don't you ever leave me alone?

the corners of his body backed up to mine, such a beautiful thing.

so what are you doing here? come right out, say it.

the thing I like the most is how he makes his own sunshine

but you're smoke curling around the corner, I hate you

so soft, so soft

spectral sighs tickling my ears

what are you doing here? how you hate the sunshine

made of the ash left behind hours after the fire and now it's cold

I'm itching for it, I'm crying because I'm itching for it