He’d never cared much for strawberries, but that summer her lips were so stained with the juices that they were all he tasted.
And he’d never had a favourite fruit, but two years later, a new girl is sat in front of him, laughing at his jokes.
"If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?" She asks playfully.
And he remembers how her hands traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest. He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders.
"Strawberries." He tells her. "I could live a life on nothing but strawberries."Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #54 -"Strawberries" (via blossomfully)
Im such a pussy, im so weak i am too scared to let myself feel like a real person. I take so much shit and i always feel like i owe people everything just for letting me breathe the same air as them. Im always in the wrong, im always fucking something up, god. Im just so angry. So frustrated.
If i ever got a cat i would name it clitoris