Fuck you for cheating on me. Fuck you for reducing it to the word cheating. As if this were a card game, and you sneaked a look at my hand. Who came up with the term cheating, anyway? A cheater, I imagine. Someone who thought liar was too harsh. Someone who thought devastator was too emotional. The same person who thought, oops, he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Fuck you. This isn’t about slipping yourself an extra twenty dollars of Monopoly money. These are our lives. You went and broke our lives. You are so much worse than a cheater. You killed something. And you killed it when its back was turned.
Georgia says you're never coming back. She says you've lived such a great life that you were ready to leave it, so you did. But you left your body behind for the earth to break down into good stuff it needs. You always were selfless like that. Georgia says I should forget what I saw when I walked into your room that night. I don't think I can. I've never seen blood so black. I asked her what was in the needle but she wouldn't tell me. All I know is you're never coming back. I miss you, mom.
keep these fragments coming<3
I listened to a guitar that sounded like the sea making out with the shore and it was blue like the sky coloring the ocean with it's suggestive "come-hither" accentuated blues and curves and clouds in places where they shouldn't have been and the only question was who would cum first and it was always the sea and it always tasted like salt running across the sands of the shore.