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I Don't Remember My Username

@waitingforquiet

Just stuff I find on here I guess.
“As if my finger, / tracing your collarbone / behind closed doors, / was enough / to erase myself. To forget / we built this house knowing / it won’t last. How / does anyone stop / regrets / without cutting / off his hands?”

— Ocean Vuong, from Night Sky with Exit Wounds (via feestje)