it’s almost 4 AM here

i can’t quite seem to stop the aching feeling sitting in my ribcage, right in the hallow space between my breasts. crumpled up. like a piece of damp paper… folding into itself and so drenched with a contagious longing.

the folds stick together and you can’t unravel the soggy mess of feelings without tearing it’s essence into pulp. water-logged smithereens. 

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