god DAMN magic
Written @ 1:05 a.m. on 2008-05-12
i'm addicted to perfect moments that are so intimate because they're so fragile to the first time at the secret bridge and on the dark mountains and painting on the street and arms around my ribs and soap bubbles in his hair and blocking out the world at the restaurant and long easy conversation to a good beer with an older smile to finally hear instead of say 'you were me three years ago' to an 'it's okay' that you can believe to feeling innocent even for a few seconds to believing in her and knowing that she isn't fictional and neither are her friends i'm addicted to sincerity the vulnerable kind that hurts to hear and speak and i want it all the time and i know it's too much but i don't care i want it from everyone even if it crushes day-to-day i dont care about day to day anymore i dont want that i dont want to know i want to float from soul to soul and thats fine thats just fine
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