Sound: the crackling of a record.
And silence, like darkness, can be kind; it, too, is a language.
You have the kiss of death. By the time your lips depart mine, I have met my rebirth.
No map may lead me to you but I can always find you in my heart.
Also I want to consume all the poppyseed muffins/pancakes/breads/cake right now. Might have to take a break from condo inspiration and start baking.
I spend most of my time lately looking up decor ideas for my new place on pinterest and ignoring everything/everyone else.
I feel extremely firm in my wants and desires and yet very confused.