Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

― Some things are better left unsaid.  (via fawun)

yourdeadbeatgirlfriend:

i’m a good person, i deserve expensive underwear and dairy free ice cream.

lonelywhiteasian:

all i ever say is “ugh” because it can show confusion, lust, disgust and contempt, and that’s pretty much my life