tastes like his soap and pancakes at noon.
with sugar and cinnamon and edges crispy and perfect like his ringlets at ten.
This time comfort doesnt taste and smell and move freely like sheets
it smells like cedar and reeks of regret.
wishing i had never picked colors from a catalog
and stood still so long somewhere else..years ago.
i am so fucking scared
i cry all the time and cant catch my breath.
why am i building the house i know ill never really live in?
who was she?
there must be a reason. what are we hiding.
there must be something
for him to hide and me to find.
her photos haunt me while he sleeps.
where else is she. what was it like, was it worth it...
im breaking my neck looking
and im ruining the only security ive ever known. and been shown...
if only i'd have listened to his dad
and his friend
and his mom and
I am living a lie that has never been offered to me before
My ultimate fantasy.
You are my soulmate, my love, my wife to be.
our home and our dogs
our fence and our molehills
i have it all.
my insecurities are everywhere.
and i am hating myself.
i am hating a brazillian escort and the friend who told me where to look.
of course its all my fault.
i should have trusted him more
wishing i hadnt been devestated the last 8 years of my life.
maybe then i wouldnt ask so many retarded questions.
and push him away... if only he would..
i never want to see them again.
i cant speak portuguese anyway.
im never waiting til marriage again.