dreamytuesday

won't I always be so happy to waste my last 12% of battery on you, even if I end up biking home alone for a few miles I'll know that you are blind to the fact that you have me wrapped around your fucking fingers and I'll just text you all of the time, waiting for you to realize that I would do anything you say. now bare with me because I am so unfaithfully excited for you to reply and say something like "tell me the truth" this way I can have a chance to say "i'd really like to date you, and hold your hand this time" before you can think "maybe we're just friends"

I have tried to love you. But you have become   little more than an evening in pale watercolors—   the shadow of Monet. I have decided to leave the lilies as they are. Perhaps in later years, with desperation,   fearing the thinness of my thin limbs,   the creaking of my spider fingers, I will go to wander those gardens again,   hoping for the promise of Eden,   clutching beads in my weary fist. For now, you are fleeting as mermaid song,   brief as tall spires in pink and green beneath the sea—   I can never touch them. Our connection fades,   a violet mirage   disappearing within the swells. A wave breaks