Drunk and so so melted
against the backseat, against you. Always you.
On the edge of sixteen, quivering for more more more
For something you don’t have a name for, won’t have a name for,
What doesn’t exist and never will.
Only in blue bubbles, only in your head that keeps wanting more more more,
Something you will never hold in your palm. a fluttering thrush
in the bush. Coloured in forever.
On the edge of sixteen; on the edge of the world. who are you thinking of?
Thank you. I love you.



![[ ID: image one: a classical style painting of the ides of march, with the roman senators raising their daggers as caesar is backed against the statue of pompey. image two: a gif that says "girls night! girls night!" in glittering all-caps. end ID ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7524f5695d29122c224b49158eece5e7/e0e29dc83e496b22-03/s1280x1920/128f1d39cc2cf143bca0dfecc30c4ae3d1c0e940.png)










