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swiss mountains. by ~liebken
the end is not near. We all feel sliced open, strange, false, still, sitting on the windowsill discussing bruises and changes and various adolescent epiphanies. Our voices wake a woman down the street. "No love can ever be peaceful again," you said. We exist reluctantly, broken and directionless arrows, and will never thrive off our borrowed edginess.the end is not near. by ~liebken
I turn to meine liebling, open my mind, boiled and delicate, and set it in his palms for safekeeping. I could never miss a season or a city or those shimmering schooldays as much as I will do meine liebling when he leaves. I'll miss his mouse nose, his haystack hair, his fearless sense of justice, his nighttime eye
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