It tastes like regret, she said, as
she poured it into her glass
and i thought how
appropriate that it should be apple
in the hands of such forbidden fruit.
offered a sip i couldn’t take
in the eyes of God, i
went searching for something
as sweet as her mouth on mine
and found please, please, please, and
bare hands on bare skin.
I miss you like punk misses basements.
There are songs that still feel like your teeth on my neck.
The memory of your rough voice undresses my memories. Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
I was addicted to soap once
I’m clean now
you think they’re clothes
but they’re actually wearable hugs