September 22nd, 2009

(no subject)

Going home kills me, every time.

I spend days with you, and I never want it to end.  I miss you from the second I close the car door until I see you again.

It doesn't even matter what we do, as long as I'm there with you.




I'd be so happy if I got to sleep in those arms every night.

So. Happy. If.
  • Current Mood
    lonely lonely

(no subject)

As soon as I get home these thoughts pour out of my head. It's like you've attached a string to a cork in my mind, and when you drive off, the line gets taught and the cork pops out.