coyoteonpeyote

[coyoteonpeyote]

I asked the devil for freedom… but I didn’t know it would be this lonely.

[coyoteonpeyote]

Absolutely not. Being with you again would be like trying to heat up leftover nachos in the microwave. Everything is kind of sad and soggy and I can’t even enjoy the right now because the memory of how good it tasted yesterday would taint everything sour

[coyoteonpeyote]

You can reach out for my hand, try to touch base in my inbox, show up at my door, and I will forgive you. But I refuse to die in the same place twice.

[coyoteonpeyote]

I just don’t know what to do with all of these emotions. I write them down on paper, where they fester, like a splinter I can’t get out.

[coyoteonpeyote]

[coyoteonpeyote]

All these mixed tapes I make will never mean as much to the people I give them to as they do to me when I make them.

[coyoteonpeyote]

[coyoteonpeyote]

Winning you over

Here I am, leveraging my hips for your heart and I know I’m going to gain nothing.

When you really love someone, you don’t long for revenge, you only want the best for them after it’s over.

You only get to see yourself in the morning when you’re brushing your teeth and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, and again, when you’re reaching for your car door handle and you see your wavy reflection in the window before you hop in on your way to work. I am so, so fortunate that I get to see you whenever I want.

I need the reassurance because you’ve stated multiple times that you like the thrill of the chase… but you never chase me.

I just want my light to triumph over my dark… and then I want dessert after.

I’m the kind of girl to lose it and cry over a poem, but I won’t lose it and cry over you.

A lot of people are going to look at you… so many will look at you, but so few will actually see you.

I do wonder if after all this is over, if I’ll be one of those girls that you talk about and remember by first and last name… There are so many women you fawn over with just a name, but let’s be real, probably fucking not, since you didn’t even know my first name until 2 months in.

I harbor my love for you like a fugitive

I have chosen a lonely life in love. I have chosen money and will continue to choose money, but you have thrown quite the wrench in that. For the first time, I feel like maybe that there is a way to balance being an escort with a genuine love life, but both of us are so guarded in our feelings that I’m not sure that is even possible.

I knew I was fucked when I tried to get you to take to me to bed and instead, you cupped my face in your hands and said, “just look at me, look me in the eyes. Is this the intimacy you’re looking for?” And then you stared me down straight in the eyes and I gulped my nervousness down, because actually, no, that’s the kind of intimacy that terrifies the ever living fuck out of me. I haven’t looked someone in the eyes like that in ages and now, I think about that more than I think of sex.

Isn’t that what real love is made of? It’s not made of forever, it’s made of all these right nows.

Sorry I always flinch when you come at me with those upper high fives. I have noticed that you haven't been doing that and you've been more into fist bumps and side high fives. My inner child really appreciates that. Been meaning to say it, but it feels like a weird thing to acknowledge out loud.

Today we were sitting outside the brewery in Helena and I asked you why you never wear sunglasses, I can’t go anywhere without them. You told me that your eyes are basically natural sunglasses, being that deep dark liquid brown they are and I lifted my sunglasses off my eyes in protest, telling you that mine were too and you told me I was wrong. You told me my eyes had a hint of hazel. I was so taken aback because not a single soul has ever noticed that before.

Even if this is a temporary thing, I have found meaning in it and found it to be beautiful, for whatever duration it lasts for.

I’ve got this shattered glass heart. It’s pretty, glitters in the sunlight, but you need to handle it with care or it will cut you to the bone for being careless.

Please come over, your pillow stopped smelling like you.

I feel you pulling away, you’ve got something else lined up, someone else. Or you’d still kiss me like I was the only one in the room.

I want to send you everything I ever wrote about you in my journal. I want to tear out the pages and send them to you. I won’t because it would be a total waste of emotional energy, knowing full well you never thought about me half as much. I should rip out all those pages, tie them to a rock and throw them in the Missouri. Love shouldn’t have such a grave.

You say you’re dangerous, but you don’t know the meaning of the word. I am the silver lining in your story, you’ve turned me into a sharp blade that is about to fall.