Let me ask you my dear,
do you mind if we feel lonely together?

Turning illness into a weapon never got me far.
Turning illness into art only glorified scars.
Turning illness into stories only got others sad.
I think that illness is the best friend that I have ever had.

You wore a complex pattern on your face,
one that I hadn’t seen for a while,
and I didn’t think I could fix it this time.

You looked at me and said “I’m fine, and it’s not your fault,”and the fake smile was plastered onto your perfect freckled face.

I think it hurts more when you lie,
I think you lie more when you’re hurt.

What will we do when we all fall in love with each other.

When the blind infatuation seeps into our delicate skin and poisons the blood coursing through our innocent veins.

When the "mild" jealousy hides the secret hatreds behind the masks of friendship that we all so desperately wear.

When we rip our sanctuary apart from the inside out because it seemed as though it didn't love us back.

When we lose it all for the possibility of a temporary romance.

What will we do when we all fall in love with each other?