ribcaged.

i still feel the need to hold a pillow
as i fall asleep, but whenever i do
i’m always wishing it were you

and i’m always missing your fingertips
your soft touch, i’d kiss the polished nails
that sailed my skin, just to praise the brush

but now i’m just paint chips in your mouth
i guess

i’m sorry for whatever awful taste i’ve left
but if you love something you have to
let it chew you up and spit you out
i guess

once my caged bird sings it can’t digress
from songs about the love you can’t digest

if i could tear my heart from my chest
i would rip this bird from my ribcage
to see if i could find a way to set it free
or maybe i’d just break it’s fucking neck
because the songs won’t leave me be

it’s just kind of hard for me
i guess i mean i miss you
i still crave your soft touch
and i still want to kiss you
i’m sorry i sort of love you
i never really meant to
but when i hold my pillow
i know i can’t forget you
and when i hold my pencil
you’re where i always drift to

pillow harry
  • harry: WHO ORDERED THIS PILLOW VERSION OF ME?!
  • draco: did u say pillow version of you?
  • harry:
  • draco: who on the right mind would order a pillow version of you.
  • harry: yeah i fucking wonder who in this house with two persons namely harry potter, and draco malfoy, would order a pillow version of me!