Butit'sgreenpaintedcement.

Goodnight 420

Doepicshit.

Keep a journal & stare at walls, owl eyes.

I looked good for your pride.

Wet streets, white flame.
Bone girls talk under rain.
You're smarter not to hurt about it.
And look forward when you cry.
I'm not the type to see through promised lies.
Smoke pushed into the forehead's crease.
Sounds of airplanes and stains smile.
Yellow hair tucked beside my ear, I heard you say goodbye.
With every click, I'm not complete.
Writing this for you...

Akumal.

Akumal, I love you.

(...)

I am, as of now, in Akumal, Mexico.
It's absolutely beautiful and I promise to post some pictures of my time here soon.

I don''t practice.

Did you stay up all night?

The thing is that he never told you.
About the break and about the depth.
You speak and dip your fingers onto the rough skin you like because it's far from feminine.
Cradling into leather and ignoring the actual act.
The actual past.
Wiping ashes that get caught in the threads of your jeans.
Looking down because you know you meant it.
I braided my hair because you said you needed something.
Sipping the coffee on the steep side of the bricks and exhaling more than one by one.
My stomach is always empty but I know I like you and your shady eyes.
With you and the front seat kiss though the cigarette smoke evaporating the light.

Don’t ask me what’s wrong, ask me what’s right.

Feeling better is only a matter of how you deal. Apologizing for something you aren't sorry for is a higher alternative to breaking down. When nothing's right, make it right. I love making up.