☾ she who hears ☽
earth tones, birthstones, and erogenous zones
the things I would do for
one night, nahh, a sex/love life with Jason Momoa. sorry I’m not sorry at all.
even though I may not always consciously know or show this, somewhere hidden behind the walls I’ve put up, there is a thin sliver of understanding that I deserve to be loved so so deeply, and completely…to a point of fault on the other’s behalf (and likely on mine as well).
one day I might let myself be loved like that.
I know you woke up thinking about me. I can always feel it, those exact moments when I’m on your mind. It’s usually during the full moon, as the sun is rising, or when you’re floating on the ocean looking for me in the dark blue. You have lodged yourself somewhere deep beneath my skin. My soul can feel it. This should be such a beautiful thing, but we won’t let go. I wonder (too often) when this thing between us will be explored. You know I hate you, but I don’t think you know it’s because I don’t hate you at all. I guess we gotta listen to the sage advice we once shared with our friend, in unison, timing is everything. That sexy….nah, sensual beat of Flashback by Fat Freddy’s Drop, “because there’s something that I can’t explain, ‘bout this,” plays in my head when I think about you. I feel that you can feel it too.
salted caramel = me after the beach