i love flooded basements.
i love burnt banana bread.
i love my friends withdrawing.
i love the jeans i shed.
and if marlboro was a lady,
i would marry the shit out of her.
i was dizzy when i woke up this morning, so i stumbled to the bathroom and leaned my head against the ceramic counter top. your jeans were on the floor; the ones i get jealous of, the ones that make me mad because it's hard to look away from you when you wear them. goddamit, girl. but i tried them on. (i know i didn't ask permission, but you'll find out when you read this. is that okay?)
i think you look pretty, even when you're all sprawled spread eagle sleeping and your hair is everywhere.
and i can't wait to see my friends. i think i'll love today.
i forgot my medication. let me drive you crazy, baby.
