When you wanted to wear that skimpy crop top or cheeky bikini that made you look wayyyy older than your age.
Someone’s true, raw emotions are often conveyed through written words.
I am homesick for the way you will love me, innocently yet recklessly, gently yet deeply.
Twerking and/or some form of erotic (or just weird af) dancing.
Photographs are like time capsules that let you flit, for a second, between what was and what is.
Not when we’re quiet and tangled in bed sheets, not in the shadow of a porch light, and not in a silent car on the highway.
“Make the first move. You’re the one approaching him?! That’s sexy. He’ll definitely be into you.”
Please help to calm my anxious heart. Fill me with confidence instead of fear, positive thoughts instead of nervousness, and your light instead of the darkness that is plaguing me.
I would put my lips to your canvas, taste where the sweat dripped from the paintbrush, and the thick, metallic earthiness of your skin.
No. I want to stick out my tongue like a child and roll my eyes when you speak. I want to call you out on your B.S. and shout your lies to the entire room.