he can only love me on Sunday nights
Photo by Karl Edwards on Unsplash he can only touch me on Sunday nights, under full moon nights, hidden in very dark nights, “what are you doing?” kinda nights, euphoric
Photo by Karl Edwards on Unsplash he can only touch me on Sunday nights, under full moon nights, hidden in very dark nights, “what are you doing?” kinda nights, euphoric kinda nights, “how have you been?” kinda nights, “can we switch positions?” kinda nights, “I have to leave” kinda nights.
my thoughts after you softly kissed me
Photo by Satyam Pathak on Unsplash I am going to break your heart, and I’m afraid that you are not able to see it and I have chosen to ignore
Photo by Satyam Pathak on Unsplash I am going to break your heart, and I’m afraid that you are not able to see it and I have chosen to ignore it. You see, my love can expand, bend, stretch sideways, take up any form, but will never wrap you ‘over
before I burn my notebook
small poems that I bleed on my old notebook.
small poems that I bleed on my old notebook.
to have in mind for your next victim
just so you don't keep collecting souls and leaving broken hearts.
just so you don't keep collecting souls and leaving broken hearts.