shaxxily

some nights I catch myself in the dead of night with your name on the tip of my tongue and your silhouette gracing the edge of my dreams; in the morning I’m choking on flower petals and love-me-nots that are still lodged in this paper-thin throat the dead meaning in your words still caresses my lips, the tiny sounds of smoke emitted from cracked kiss-swollen lips sets off the tiny neurons in my body; the starving stillness in your eyes that used to plague me now only chases me in my sleep you had cherry red lips