I'm in love with a boy who's eyes are sparkling knives slitting through my body, ripping my stomach to shreds, like a guitar king, like every boy I have ever loved.
the distance is increasing and I feel it increasing in my mind, but in my heart, whenever i think of every mole and freckle, every hickey i stained his body with, i feel an incredible sense of warmth, like i was being held the same way as a month ago.
the times he called me after the ladies I most admired he knew how to give me those subtle compliments that amount to more than just you are pretty, albeit i heard that one often.

i get wheacvy boots when:
- you dont always tell me you love me. actually you dont say it anymore at all unless I say it first.
- i realize i wotn be in the south of france this summer.

up and leaving me to this cold foggy city alone.
i feel constricted in my breathing patterns, in the tightness of my chest, i know i am loved, i feel so abandoned, and like i know I cant have you, which i cant and this makes everything so much harder.
i can't decide between two philosophies, well truly between choosing my own destiny and choosing what is meant to be and between the fact that everything has been written on a big scroll of papyrus in heaven and that I have no control over what I am doing. and who is to say that perhaps it is a mixture of both? perhaps i speak my choices and thus my destiny is formed.
all i know is that last september i met him and today i left him, for a world alone, for time to think and write. it's a different emotion than i have felt, because i feel so close, joined perhaps and at the same time, the distance is infinite, theres a time difference.
what hurt me the most is that we are not trying, yet we are, just maybe not fighting. i suppose i am a fighter as much as anything and i am not used to not getting my way. my stomach is a mixture of acidic fluid that tempts in waves that say "oh he loves you so much, he will do anything for you" when in all reality when they crash it ends it in sarcasm and laughter.
i feel nervous to face the next few days, to face the music i will hear and to face every place we have kissed, i still remember them all.

here i am slavng underneath the moon and thinking of romance, romantic songs, last kisses, last dances, last days ever straining.
i am moving back to my parents abode, to which i say hurrah for today. the bus rides are long dark and sweaty but my thoughts are plentiful a many.
i am dreaming about turkey, and colourful mornings,and the cultural rich sad state of russia that i want to see and expirience.

you are smacking your lips SO HARD and slurping like theres no tomorow. perhaps it is just stomach jealousy perhaps i wish i had a bucket of fruit as well. sometimes i feel like being the tattletale. but no one likes a snitch. the clouds are moving faster than any summer day in early july when they just dont want to budge, they are on summer vay-cay too. thats when the grass is sticky in paris and the metro crowded and yo cant even pull shirts over yr face because the sweat makes them stick to you.
right now i was i was there and now here and diping my fingers into my own sweaty armpits.

sometimes i feel like calling on the witching hour
to honorably expel all the worst attributes of myself, yes i always have your back
but how does it make me feel? i quit making excuses for you a long time ago, and i wish i never had to think about you in the present tense
this is something i have already explored, and like any good french scholar, i would prefer the passee compose rather than imparfait, some events are not meant to go on long and sound.
BUT YOU a delicious creature of all trimmings like christmas, like anything, but rather i hate on holidays with too many expectations. and here you deceive mine and make me realize i have undermined everything and i would give it all up, again and again, for a clear well, for a clear answer and an honest response.
and here is the witching hour and i wish for charms for magic and meddle. i am meddlesome like any old witch but i am young and i am just trying to prevent creases and stains in my white laundry.
ms tiggywinkle if you must or may, you can take chances and you can be crazy and that is how i chose to be. but at your word, i spin around, sometimes life is just a merry go round of choices of animals as exotic as the countries that they hail from.
and i keep picking different ones ut they keep being replaced, and i wish it would just stay still sometimes, for a bit.

sometimes i feel like i will rot in my jealousy and my provocations. like a child playing in dung, i rise, all stained, always, which is no surprise. what more could yo expect from somewhere who grovels and stoops so low as to be jealous of others, while she herself is the bearer of the most charms?
often i feel like jealousy is my most theatrical and consistent attribute, and what an attribute to have! not one at which others are jealous, but rather one that is wholly despised and connived. so is sit in my harmonious state gritting my teeth about events which havent even happened!