Jenn. 20. Token Geordie + Essex Girl.

You walk in from your mother's balcony, panda-eyed and freezing cold. You bury yourself in my chest to warm, I notice the goosebumps on your arms, millions, and whether it's because of the numbers of hours spent laid facedown on my bed listening to white noise, or, well, obviously it's not, I somehow manage to translate them from braille. The trails on your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of half finished novels you'd leave lying all over the place, and every quotation that'd dribble from your mouth like a final, fatal livejournal entry.

i know, i am wrong, i am sorry. ♥