i wanna crawl back to you and your bed. into those sheets that fumble inbetween our intertwined legs. it’s a mess, everything’s a mess. but you fit my pieces to a t. you’re the big spoon, i’m the little spoon. you say the nastiest things in bed and it’s fuckin awesome. and no one is ever the wiser about your mischiefs. and i love how i know you inside out and i can keep it all to myself. it’s so goddamn hard to stay away and do the lesser evil thing. but staying true is so much harder. there was never a day i didnt pretend i could just screw everything and everyone else and carpe the fucking diem. there was never a night i listened intently if the car that pulls over in front is yours, and you would be at my front door in the wee hours at night. your scent is stuck in my manchester and i am so torn about changing and washing them. and even if i give in to washing it away, you are still here. you’re everywhere in my room. every corner, in my closet. you have invaded me, my everything. my sanctuary. i can’t hide from you. and there isn’t a place that doesn’t remind me of you. you’ve figured out my secret places and i took you to others. i have ran out of sanctuaries. and out of all, my head is the most dangerous place of all. you’ve built a nest in there somehow, and claimed it yours. what started as an adoration post is turnin out to be that of loathing. self loathing included. i hate how much longing i’ve put up with just to save both our faces. this blows. and sometimes i miss your touch so bad, i want to just be spooned by you and nothing further.