these arms are mine
and i suppose these temporary moments will tire easily; slipping my fingers through the liquidity of it so lazily. i still don't understand it. i don't think i ever will, really. but we're trudging along, trying to figure it out. we are always trying. don't we get points for effort?
but my god, girl. aren't you the little desperate one?
transference is such a bitch.
southern russia never seemed like a good place to go to, anyway.
