dear wren,
my head hurts.
b a d.
-grace.
YOU ARE READING
leather jackets.
Teen Fiction| you were standing all alone in that leather jacket of yours that smells like cigarettes and moth balls. you still wear it, even though it's tattered and old. i think it looks lovely on you. |
thirty-nine.
dear wren,
my head hurts.
b a d.
-grace.
