An explosion of talent. Much love for this unflinching voice.
Sometimes, in the dark, I can still feel your name on my wrist, burning through the skin. The insignia of guilt.
I always knew we wouldn’t survive.
From the start, I knew we’d never quite fit together. Inevitable. But, red flags never really mattered as long as you gave me shelter.
I knew you back when my playlist was half indie and half pretentious. I miss the way your eyes would glaze over when I’d talk about fucking someone famous. I miss how you didn’t shrink away from my awkward immaturity. You saw me: girlish, sometimes vapid, hopelessly out of touch. You didn’t bury me under some modified, false image. Your honesty bordered on brutal, but you never asked me to change.
I knew you could love the hurt away. At times clumsy, stumbling, stammering, and imperfect- but still love. My heart was ruined. Ugly from falling apart so many…
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