Boys Don’t Cry /// The Cure
You live in the back of my throat. Folded up there. A memento.
Your scent. Your memory. Muted and momentary. Heavy. The smell of sleep. Reminiscent. Bittersweet.
Once I laid my head on you. Inhaled to match your rhythm. As if somehow that’d bind us close together indelibly.
You live in my cavities. Empty spaces of my body. Your voice. Your memory. Planted deep. A pit inside me.
I didn’t say “I love you” to hear it back. I said it to make sure you knew."
its 2014 why doesn’t my hair brush itself