it was bedside Bibles and continental breakfast on the fly...

"I wouldn't call it ideal," I say and you look away at the sound of my voice, "But in the grand scheme of it all...it is what is is." I light a smoke and look down at the disheveled sheets. I look at you and you're searching me for a reaction. "It's an unfortunate, fairytale." It's more to myself than to you. But your lips are quivering and theres a moment...wherein i freeze at the coarseness of your voice.

 

 "i got wet when i saw him."

It was a fairytale built on Hotel Bibles and Cum Stained Sheets