Hmm Thinking About Old Friends. I Still Do My Lipstick The Way You Taught Me, Look For Your Face In Every

Hmm thinking about old friends. I still do my lipstick the way you taught me, look for your face in every crowd, start to tell a story and feel your name die in my mouth. No amount of anger erases the way we hid in the trees as kids, how you’d run to the door hands full with my favourite sweets. Your smile is my picture of happiness, name the first I learned to write.

I just want to be doted on adored worshipped revered loved obsessed over dreamed about touched desired wanted thought about endlessly fancied cherished treasured held dear revered made to feel like a goddess queen etc etc etc etc

sensory