real
there was never anything real.
just the way the cicadas chirped at me through the windows.
just the wind against my skin.
just my cat massaging my chest with her purrs.
just the beating of my heart.
but there was never anything real.
there was never anything real.
just the way the cicadas chirped at me through the windows.
just the wind against my skin.
just my cat massaging my chest with her purrs.
just the beating of my heart.
but there was never anything real.
part-time writer, full-time waiter
inquiries: alexleeandrade@gmail.com
@tecolotesweet