whenwefallasleep
Our hearts have been clamped together; now, I'd do anything to break free.
I can't take this anymore.
Imperfection. It's what we're all afraid of. Whether it be on pure, white skin or more abstract than that, our biggest fear is not being able to quench this thirst that we have to be absolutely everything. And, unfortunately, it's pretty much impossible.
His navy blue and red striped sweater sleeve tickled my forehead as he played with my hair. Laying on his ribs, I could feel his chest rise with each breath, his lungs expanding and contracting. His heart beat was slow and slightly unsteady, along with his stomach; I could hear its low rumbles. I was perfectly content with my right hand intertwined in his left, our fingers running over each others in random patterns, like some kind of game. We have a strange love, yet completely conventional. I don't mind one bit.