desolte

@desolteliked for a thing!!

                       words have already  h o p p e d  their way down to her lap, on the floor, merrily around him,   ‘   your frown is ruining my ice-cream.   ’, mint-breath, without bite  ( she keeps poison, not spits it out ). that crease of brows follow thanh into her sleep countless times, not necessarily his, familiar enough to be comfortable around. except snack time. it is a blight for snack time.