hope447

1. i believe that all the butterflies in my stomach have since died, my dear. the funny thing is, when i roll over on your carpeted floor i feel their brittle, unmoving wings graze along the delicate tissue within me. so this feeling has not died yet, it hasn't. 2. there's a simple equation for the loveliness of the sore muscles, the pain is countered by the feeling of waking up to your face. 3. "i've decided to let go." "oh, have you?" "yes. i have a feeling your eyes are worth it." 4. this is not something of love. this is something of possible love, of definite fondness, of unbridled infatuation. yes, the butterflies are