4:00 pm - Monday, Oct. 07, 2002
Song:
Written:
Is it possible that everything I�ve felt for seven months is suddenly not right? That all of that isn�t real, and this is. That the boy who kisses me in my fantasies, so that I sit in class leaning my head forward and hiding little smiles, is the boy I�m meeting and falling in love with right this instant?
I�m breathing deep, musky scents that burn my lungs and sting my eyes with the tears I feel when he makes me too happy.
I�ll open my mouth and pour down my throat the hot liquid that fills me, from my toes up, until I�m just full and it pours out the edges of my eyes, tainted by my inner salt.
He purifies me.
I�m building up Friday. Begging its perfection, and somehow knowing it�ll be what I demand.
Love, friends, pumpkins. I�ll snap down my camera on it and insist this keeps it there forever.
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