I’m sitting here and writing this with one ear lent to my playlist and the other at the mercy of the slightest sound of your breath. My eyes constantly darting from this journal to your bassinet. My arms ready to drop any and everything if a chirp from you orders their embrace.
Tag: Blog
The three stages of falling apart
You grew guns for eyes and your glances- well, they were bullets that could rip through me even with my eyes closed.