Sunday, May 31, 2015

Sometimes I think I might break in half and go on living as
two separate selves.

He wants to pull my hair and I want him to relax.
Speaking of our lovers, meaning, each other,
perseverating the devastating,
taking me to my hiding place.
I don't want to see your face in that crown.
Running to the sea is the best I can do,
blissful as fuck, so blue I could drown.
He's asking to pull my hair
and I'm like, baby take it easy,
this doesn't feel good for me.

05/31