my dream girl don’t exist… there are records playing & my chest aches from sickness; from love. i’m cycling & everything feels tenfolds what it should. november, december we break our nails digging into the frozen soil to bury ourselves away from the world & away from feeling anything. my nails are trimmed short to keep from burrowing away, not today. you smell like amber & you feel something like home. she goes & now she knows she will never be afraid.
