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)


  • . 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 .

    • RT @poetastrologers: Crush: What’s your sign? Libra: *sudden fantasy sequence of marriage, France, poetry, S&M, divorce, threesomes & impec… 2 hours ago retweeted via poetastrologers
    • (ghost brides) 1 week ago
    • me: i am way too luscious and interesting to be this isolated and alone. 👑😔👑 also me: (someone offers to come ove… https://t.co/CozYALeJ49 1 week ago
    • RT @heavenbrat: i really have the softest heart 1 week ago retweeted via heavenbrat
    • RT @butt_sword: people always making noises. stop 3 weeks ago retweeted via butt_sword