Wednesday, September 30, 2015

24.


I don't need anyone to distract me from myself anymore.
I love the ones who look at me and know without a doubt that I'm in an illicit affair with myself and I'm standing on rooftops and dancing on beaches and yelling at the grooves of myself
I do not want caresses under the cover of the night
I'm tired of whispers, of subtle. I want loud.
I want the sun.
The night is not romantic anymore.
I'm too old for nights, for stars- those fuckers are dead anyway.




So here's to 24, be better and kinder to me than 23 was.



love,
leggy.