this time three years ago I fell in love. Not the sweet kind of love. the kind of love that melts in your fist and leaves your open palm sticky and wet. the kind of love that fills your lungs with cigarette smoke and humid october air. the kind that sends you soaring above the city, driving home at two am, and untying your shoelaces in hopes he will notice and show you how pretty a bow he can make when it’s for you.