Double Spacing.

I was living in my old place.

I wasn’t really talking to Enora at the time

I was looking forward to you

My mom had just bought me a bunch of new clothes

This bright blue dress

Satin

And the heels.

Slippery 

It was snowing and raining at the same time,

I was holding onto your hand.

We went up the street for sushi,

You had just came back from India,

You gave me this

White

Scarf 

I had never tasted all these different kinds of raw fish

You knew everything about

Because of Vancouver

I tasted Sake

I cried. 

What You Want.

The Panthère noire was full of people.

We were all there.
I hadn’t seen you in a while,
She was with her new lover and I was jeleous.
Clearly not drunk enough

 

The sadness just drifted into your eyes,

And your sweet skin made it seem like a dream

Your strong arms and lips.

We bought MDMA

And it was your first time. 

We went to the after party.
Got lost on the way,
your friend was not kind, not sweet, beautiful but aggressive.

He was angry.

We got stoped by the cops,

You were to high to realize, I wanted to hold you. 

We went back to Jasmina’s
And kissed in her grand parent’s bed.
You held me close and closer we were drifting further and further away from any sense of consciousness

I did not want it to end.
I wanted more.
I ran to see the doorman,

Asked him if I could go in the pool
he said it was open,
we jumped in,

I can’t swim

I turned on the sauna.

We had trouble breathing. We were kissing.

We went back in the bed.

I wanted to sleep with you

I am still a virgin.

We fell asleep.

On my way to

The memories fade

and I'm no longer sure 

if our relationship 

even 

existed. 

highs and lows and alternations

personalities 

treated.

you, ect.

you rested your silence on me,

i enjoy the idea of you 

falling asleep on me

today i can fully dissociate myself from my body

my thoughts are elsewhere 

i remember images of you rather than your face

frightened

terrified

that you should come to think of me as 

my mothers daughter 

my fathers image, 

sweating of narcissism, streams from my open pores 

to be of no use 

i fear i make no sense, 

the essence of my 

building up to a great feeling of anxiety 

ect.

i am not sure what to do with you and all of this. 

I got to half of my journal. 

The best half is over, i want a new one. 

He has his operation tomorrow for his tumor in his finger. 

I'm not quite sure which finger.

He's never going to have a nail on that finger again. 

I'd like to video tape you when you part your lips,

your eyes wide open. 

You inspire the best in me. 

I want a man to do that to me someday. 

But I'm going to rest my mind on you for now. 

-in a platonic way.