Jan 14, 2012
23 notes
23 notes
I perched, reposed carefully taut. Pen froze mid thought and interrupted stroke. My torn black-brown jean cuffs whispered with the floor, dripping snowed tears.
I was deer.
Blue cotton buttons, black locks peeking fuck me souls. I wasn’t sure if you were staring at me. Surely the guy behind. Surely the girl onward and upward. Surely not me in my self-absorbed hunchback.
I’m genuine, as much as I can be given the vast distance across coffee-stained cedar. We haven’t even met, but did you know I already love you? Is that why you peeked?
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About
The mind wanders as the wind blows ever so finicky. Written is mine. Quoted is not. Photos mostly not mine. A few are.
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