my stoic defense gushed into a stream of girlish teardrops when he told me that the hairband around his wrist was one he stole from me before he left and he now wears it daily... then he blotted my cheeks with his sleeve, because his pocket contained only snotty tissues.
my bed is empty and my heart is broken all over again...
i hate los angeles.
my bed is empty and my heart is broken all over again...
i hate los angeles.
how are you, hon?