I’ve never been with a boy who hasn’t seen me naked. It’s always the squeaky futon, bear-it-all, turn-off-the-lights quickstep. Don’t chalk it up to daddy issues.Maybe I’m sick of keeping private parts private. I don’t want rainwater secrets on my lips, tasting of don’t make too much noise. October’s dust in my lungs, maybe I don’t want bits of four AM lingering in my subconscious. Smokers breathe in fire, coat their insides in ash. Is that suicide or arson? Listen to me, listen to me. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE.I’m naked and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m not a piece of fruit. Don’t press into my flesh, looking for soft spots. My whole body is tender and rotten, but I’m alive.I’m alive and just because you can see it all, doesn’t mean you know it all ― Taylor Rhodes, Sixteenth Notes: The Breaking of the Rose-Colored Glasses

0
48
I’ve never been with a boy who hasn’t seen me naked. It’s always the squeaky futon, bear-it-all, turn-off-the-lights quickstep. Don’t chalk it up to daddy issues.Maybe I’m sick of keeping private parts private. I don’t want rainwater secrets on my lips, tasting of don’t make too much noise. October’s dust in my lungs, maybe I don’t want bits of four AM lingering in my subconscious. Smokers breathe in fire, coat their insides in ash. Is that suicide or arson? Listen to me, listen to me. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE.I’m naked and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m not a piece of fruit. Don’t press into my flesh, looking for soft spots. My whole body is tender and rotten, but I’m alive.I’m alive and just because you can see it all, doesn’t mean you know it all ― Taylor Rhodes, Sixteenth Notes: The Breaking of the Rose-Colored Glasses
I’ve never been with a boy who hasn’t seen me naked. It’s always the squeaky futon, bear-it-all, turn-off-the-lights quickstep. Don’t chalk it up to daddy issues.Maybe I’m sick of keeping private parts private. I don’t want rainwater secrets on my lips, tasting of don’t make too much noise. October’s dust in my lungs, maybe I don’t want bits of four AM lingering in my subconscious. Smokers breathe in fire, coat their insides in ash. Is that suicide or arson? Listen to me, listen to me. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE.I’m naked and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m not a piece of fruit. Don’t press into my flesh, looking for soft spots. My whole body is tender and rotten, but I’m alive.I’m alive and just because you can see it all, doesn’t mean you know it all ― Taylor Rhodes, Sixteenth Notes: The Breaking of the Rose-Colored Glasses

I’ve never been with a boy who hasn’t seen me naked. It’s always the squeaky futon, bear-it-all, turn-off-the-lights quickstep. Don’t chalk it up to daddy issues.Maybe I’m sick of keeping private parts private. I don’t want rainwater secrets on my lips, tasting of don’t make too much noise. October’s dust in my lungs, maybe I don’t want bits of four AM lingering in my subconscious. Smokers breathe in fire, coat their insides in ash. Is that suicide or arson? Listen to me, listen to me. I’m alive. I’M ALIVE.I’m naked and bruised, but I’m alive. I’m not a piece of fruit. Don’t press into my flesh, looking for soft spots. My whole body is tender and rotten, but I’m alive.I’m alive and just because you can see it all, doesn’t mean you know it all
― Taylor Rhodes,

Sixteenth Notes: The Breaking of the Rose-Colored Glasses

Like Taylor Rhodes?

Buy Taylor Rhodes products

[easyazon_link keywords=”Taylor Rhodes” locale=”US” tag=”bestsellerlisting-20″][/easyazon_link]

Do you Like Positive words, poetry and words to describe someone you love?

Check out

https://positivewordsdictionary.com/
https://wordsthatrhymewith.com/
https://wordstodescribesomeone.com/

RELATED ARTICLESMORE FROM AUTHOR