— i dream of you in colours that don't exist, your love is a dream. wrapped in the smell of the cologne you use, the one i never got the name of. wrapped in the taste of your skin underneath our february moon. wrapped in the way you'd pull my head close and press soft kisses, your eyelashes fluttering against my skin as you crept towards sleep. i used to wonder, your fingers dancing over the fabric of my frayed jeans, i used to wonder if you cared. if you would cry at my funeral. if you would even attend. if you would say a few words, "oh, she was a lovely girl. i will miss her." i wonder if i would be missed. and then i would undress, my body dripping of womanly sin and childish confusion, because where was the love? there was no love in your touch, no words spoken from the heart. where was the romance i was promised as a child?
