My index finger slides down this pen the same way that it slides down the side of your face, your lips
I don’t want to fuck, I want to make love.
I want to reach the depths of my mind and pour my heart out in the most provocative way.
I want to pour my mind out in a way that would inspire me I want to
impress myself, with myself.
My love for one holds me back, yet in the same way it is all that I crave. How do We balance this?
I seem to have missed the exit sign. It’s all the way over there now, and all I can make out is it’s dull glow￼.
Will I ever know when we’ve had enough?
Maybe we never will
Maybe you’re holding me back because I am standing at the wrong door.
Maybe I am exactly where we need to be, maybe i’ll never be happy
Every cliché we’ve ever heard in life eventually we understand.