izzy

sketches for my sweetheart the drunk
1. If you were a silhouette, you wouldn’t be the shadow. You’d be the light that defines the dark.

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sarah

He always liked his cleft chin, until he found out what cleft meant, and then he felt broken, scarred by some slice to his face as he turned in his mother’s belly. He tore the crusts off cheap white bread, rolled the fluffy slices in his hands until they were thick like Playdoh, and pressed the sticky mess into his carved face until it lay flat, and he stood for hours in front of the mirror with his eyes half-shut, imagining himself whole until the bread dried out and fell off into the bathroom sink.

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