I consider perfection a collection, a collection of never to bees buzzing over ridges, known as wrinkles. Singletons looking for systems in order to find the right one Not the right now Millions of kisses going amiss Reclusive, exclusive people unobtrusive civilians, waiting for the impulse to collect and recollect, the calluses of love.
your bittersweet acid-kisses made my lips burn enough to set myself on fire just by thinking of the night you hid a part of yourself in my hollow skin. you built a burning castle in my fragile mind, you ****
you weren't meant to be pretty. you were meant to burn the sky down, to splatter the earth red, to destroy, and to create. you weren't meant to be pretty. you were meant to be devastating.
I am sorry, and you are sorry, we can make up in the morning, wake up in our torment, go back to bed and do it all again, before the storm hits, as it's the fragile moments that make this what it is, and it's, beautiful, ~ whatever it is.