;

September 20th, 2005 · 3 comments

[ 16th september, after midnight; So. I’ve been fine all week. and then (and then). the song you once told me was yours comes on out of the blue. I make myself listen to it completely, out of being sick or just a fucking wrenching need to remember. I choke it back. […] I throw things and reach for my cigarettes. […] I tried crying hunched on the floor in the upstairs bathroom. But I see how pathetic you can still make me sometimes and I can’t. I can’t fucking cry you out of me.

I picked up a bottle of the aftershave you wear at a display counter, the other day. And I wanted to smell like you, again. I wanted to smash that smoky glass container against my throat and wail. I hate that. I hate how places and things you’ve never touched can feel like you and taste like you, and make moving on & living that much harder because. because you’re not leaving me. ]   • K.

{ 3 Responses to ; }

What's this?

You are currently reading ; at UNDREAMING(.NET)

meta

  • . Subscribe to Blog .

    Subscribe to posts via RSS, or enter your email address below to receive notifications of new posts by email.

  • . Instagram .

    No images found!
    Try some other hashtag or username
  • . Twitter .

    • "If you've ever been a little girl, you've probably summoned a demon." –@TheEmSchulz {@ATWWDpodcast} #creepylittlegirlclub 2 days ago
    • (i've hurt myself so much, loving you.) 2 weeks ago
    • "I want more women to experience love that doesn't involve suffering first and being glorified later." –… https://t.co/eUqyavUERy 2 weeks ago
    • dreamt i whispered, salaciously, 'you'll never have a woman like me,' into the mouth of a useless man and then stab… https://t.co/sR6aoB4dkG 3 weeks ago