@larcse
she shouldn’t drink so much. she knows it-- shouldn’t let the vodka cloud her judgement, but she let’s it whisper into her ear. until she’s sliding on lingerie and slipping on a coat. she knocks on his door with all the confidence of a sleep deprived, tipsy--heart broken girl. the smile on her lips is cat like, when he finally opens the door. she’s missed him--in a way that feels visceral. she feels hungry--- she feels desperate-- and she doesn’t know what to do with the swirling in her gut. “are you alone?” she tilts her head slightly. “because for the conversation i imagined you’re going to need to be alone.”















