There is nothing like the floating feeling of trying to do pilates in socks and listening to Cigarettes After Sex as your knees scrape against the carpeted floor and the almost-black almost-night clings to the windows.
Knowing that something will come, but it hasn't come yet.
"I have a feeling, a terrible fear encroaching
That I'll never love a boy
The way I love the ocean."
-Maya Hawke, "To Love a Boy"
i hate watching
you. i hate the blood
that pumps underneath your right hand
and runs through you red and thick and salty--
i hate your stubborn lips, mouthing
every
word.
i wish i didn't wonder
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