.

people seem to be leaving holes on my body. dirty holes. holy holes. bruised holes. and I carry them like I carry my bones. yesterday we spent the day in bed together, and you touched my holes and asked me who gave me them. I dont want to forget who gave me them, so I'm remembering everything. its seems that you like my bruises better than you like my bones, even though you buy me cigarettes.

I think we are worse when we're together. I dont really want to know what you think or feel about me. I feel so much on my own.