1. 
your eyes are red and scrubbed dry 
finger nails and fishing poles scatter themselves over my bed 
your hands are small and cold, patches of rough skin breaking over the surface 
and I hate my skin but I love the way yours feels
sitting together under storm shelters, demons squirming to crawl out of our eyes and nose 
i hate my hair and yours falls out in patches 
I sit with you on my lap like a ventriloquists dummy  ...

Heyo! :) 
I'm pretty sure no one will read this but that's ok! 
I'm starting a new project on WtW where I will be *attempting* to make a full fledged novel/story! I will be *trying* to update twice every week! 
Update Schedule: 
Monday - 3:00 USA ECT 
Thursday - 3:00 USA ECT 
Yay! Comment any questions you have, and be on the lookout for first chapter coming on Monday! 

 

The moon beats down onto the back of our legs. The starts can act as our freckles, and the darkness of the night sky can be our skin, and the folds of our hair. 
The water is only about a foot deep, swirling itself around our feet and ankles, until we realize that maybe it's not the best to swim in the dark. But stars don't need light. 
We have hinted sunburns curdling and stretching over the bridges and nostrils...

Cavalli doesn’t really feel like he knows anything anymore. He had just turned 16 before all this happened - and felt thoroughly dissatisfied with the results. He was stuck now, halfway between adulthood and childhood, and he didn’t know where to go now. It was kind of like he was the discarded toy of two siblings, both fighting over him. Childhood was pulling him towards a life of never doing anything, while adulthood was pulling him towards a life of...