I Almost Clicked Send, But Thought Better Of It
I want to text you, so I text that bartender I met in Portland, instead. I let him tell me all the dirty things he’d do to me if I let him fly me there.
I want to text you, so I text that bartender I met in Portland, instead. I let him tell me all the dirty things he’d do to me if I let him fly me there.
Because I didn’t love myself. Because I was too afraid to dig in and tap into what was inside. Because I wasn’t giving myself a chance.
He only loved me when he was sorry.
Listen, I’m not ready for a relationship, but I’m down as fuck for a summer fling.
You want to say no to that second date, SAY NO. Don’t worry about hurting his feelings.
I fell in love with Denver and into disappointment with men once again.
She is most definitely no basic bitch.
I’ve got your name branded on my skin, and it’s got me thinking about tattoos, about the things I would have to do to erase you.
I know you. I know you in ways they never will. The things she hates, are things I love, things I know I could accommodate in my life.
Don’t tell me you think of me. I’ve used too many pages and killed too many trees with all the remembering.