𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍.
vodka tastes better than the bitter truth pressed against her tongue. cheeks tinged a pearly pink, she releases a low giggle before nuzzling her face into the pillow. faint traces of smoke wrap themselves up around her, the grey wisps carrying sorrows of the night before. drifting off to sleep, the girl's free hand curls itself around the silken sheets as her breathing slows in pace. warm arms sweep her exhausted figure closer. the male's fingers run through her hair as he speaks in a quiet tone. it's a strange sense of comfort. foreign and new, but accepted nonetheless. the problem with lacking love is that just a drop of it makes her feel at home again. new addictions take the pain away
