maybe i never got over him maybe i just buried his scent between pages of a book like withered flowers that had forgotten how to breathe i may have flipped to the next chapter but he was the only page... Continue Reading →
even in my solitude there was one person too many.
even the red and yellow leaves dance when they fall on top of her grave.
who was it that taught us to live this way? to see Destruction and call it Love to see Pain and call it Beautiful to see Darkness and call it Peace to see our Reflection and call it Not Enough.
shards of broken glass that rip through my sanity cosmic tears in the galaxies that my mind built around me a chaos that thundered louder than the storm and yet i could hear the voices.
i wrote with tears you saw the ink.
bathe me in blood but know that when morning comes sunshine will find a way.
through hell and back we've been both roses and thorns we've seen now we've judged off the edge and nothing in between.
everyone asked her what she became no one asked her what she wanted what her dreams were abstract thoughts of a little girl images behind her eyelids when she slept that's not important enough.