Aug 30, 2016
i saw you again, and the songs on the radio didn’t prepare me for it. when we hugged, your arms felt less like home and more like the strange and terrifying fondness of the motel super 8 we used to stay in when the car would break down. i was afraid of you. of time, of how it doesn’t heal at all, of how frail the years seemed in your chokehold. i had a point to prove, how you had changed or hadn’t at all? that i had, maybe. i remembered why i fell for you, and that was the worst part of it. there you were, a haunted house. there i was, so good at crawling into bed with old ghosts.
untitled || naiche lizzette (via featherumbrellas)
