Death is smouldering as this cigarette burns between these lips and I let the world spin out of control, spin until i fall off the face of this earth. These ashes, I let it smoulder and I wish you’d just burn, burn, burn.
this is different, finally something other than mere infatuation of the heart or a cursory obsession. not just another intense burst of short-lived lust and passion of fleeting feelings for another someone. i can feel it. the gradual process of liking someone, and liking them more and more until one day you catch yourself smiling to no one in particular but that your memories of him or her triggers and pulls at the corner of your lips, tugs at your heart.