For at least a few hours last night, I was able to drown out this dull-roaring sad with the sounds of The Bellow. Conversations filled-in, escaping to the South, and pierogies. I can’t speak for this morning, but last night I was alive.
This morning, I am all the things I want I say to you but none of them I’ll say.
”You never need nobody, / you never been alone, / and I try to get your affection, / but all I ever do is wrong.”
Bee Walsh. Publishing at Harper's BAZAAR by day, Internet Coquette & Poetry Editor at "The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society" by night. 25 years old. Clit Relations Manager, Weirdly Impressive. Lover of the loudest music. Not for the faint of heart. | NYC