Won't you let me just build my whole life around you?
Smoking, Otis Redding and the promise of myself
I think I’m broken, but that could always be the guilt talking. The guilt my hand conjures in the seconds of instinctual movements into my pocket to find the familiar sensation of a package of cigarettes, the guilt I feel knowing which of the two lighters in my pocket, one translucent green and the other more of an opaque but faded shade of violet, work…
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