High up in the Plaza Hotel taking rose-colored pills. I've been manically trying to write in my diary, but I slide it into the bedside table.
You're a hard man to love, and I'm a hard woman to keep track of.
Flip my attention to you and turn my body on to yours. You're both here and there. It's hard to keep you fully present in any hotel room.
Cheap trills just don't suit me anymore, but I can see daydreams of them caked across your face. You think you're Kurt Cobain, and I think you're fucking crazy as the day's long.
I remember at first, when it was all so charming. You'd come crashing into my apartment at four am. Smelling of whisky and going on about the sunrise. You'd jump on my bed with your guitar to wake me from my slumber, and I felt like I was only switching form one dreamland to the next.
But money changes everything, perhaps even more than time. And success separates people more than distance. And I just can't love you anymore, because it still feels like a distant dream.
pink dress by NBD
photos by Christina Emilie