pixie_punch

i won't try to say much. those pictures are burned into my memory. i got home and just started walking. i walked down Franklin, past his corner, and around lake of the isles. i smoked and drank my last can of beer. and thought, as much as one could think in this state, what a stupid stupid girl i am for fucking myself over. but most of all i thought of how that pretty girl in those pictures should have (was and would have) been me, making him smile like that. and she must know about those stupid, wonderful little noises he makes she must know about his lip balm penchant she must know how he always always holds her hand but DOES SHE KNOW HOW IT FEELS? A HEART FULL OF HOLES? and it's my fault for not letting go, when i should have- and told him I had. what was I thinking when I got in his car yesterday? he's not a bastard for moving on. he's a bastard for breaking my heart. make no mistake, Nik, this is for you:



(but some blame lays on "a" as well. 10/8/03 it was Franklin and Hennepin heartbreak, baby. we held hands as i ran for the bus. and i cried in your hoodie all the way home.)