beenason:

From Kurt’s journals
Lay down your warm babies on my cold feet at the end of my bed. I apologize for apologizing. My tongue runs across the roof of my mouth and it feels like a small rib cage.

beenason:

From Kurt’s journals

Lay down your warm babies on my cold feet at the end of my bed. I apologize for apologizing. My tongue runs across the roof of my mouth and it feels like a small rib cage.