| i suppose you could call this 'the gallery of a confused, emotional, spontaneous teenager'. dare to look? |


twenty yearsin twenty years i'll still be wearing my memories of you tucked in my pockets and curled into every crease. i'll still ponder over my used to's and could've'stwenty years
and maybe
in twenty years; i'll see you.
like i used to; twenty years ago.


i knew you before, i think.i once knew a boy who weaved his fingers in between mine and pecked my cheeks with kisses. i don't know where he is right now, but not a day goes by that i don't think of him. he had so much character, he was so wise. every word thati knew you before, i think.
left his lips poured pitchers of fascination into that curious mind of mine, and i would listen. but he thinks i was elsewhere.
one day this boy drew a bruise on my shoulder and emptied his feelings
out onto the pavement. i didn't cry for him that time, instead my anger echoed on and off my walls but faded too soon. i hated him with every fibre of my being
| i suppose you could call this 'the gallery of a confused, emotional, spontaneous teenager'. dare to look? |
hey. my name is ashley. i am not a very good role model. but i have a heart bigger than the universe, and i think that's what really matters. |
--
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity
--
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity
--
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity
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