the tickle between my toes

[hardlyhere]

what i would give for a taste of passion.
the little boys bore me so
...one day...soon. i'll find a man that will grab my face...shape the lines of my cheek bones and chin, with the rough warm palms of his hands.
and everything that came before that moment will become dust on an empty shelf.

Comments

[intra_venous]

your entries are like rough poetry.

it makes me happy that there's still journals out there without netspeak.