"I'll give you a ******
For every feeling you talk about"

It is important to remember
Something can be both terrible
And remarkably precious
I can tell you that my father
Has held me with all of the gentleness
And care one would use
To catch a snowflake in the air
He has looked at me with awe,
Love pouring out of him in a way
That overwhelmed the both of us
I can tell you that when my father
Raises his voice, I am still afraid
I do not know which is more relevant
I only know that both are true

You brought peace
To a Battle fought for generations
Civil love feels like giving up
To a heart beating
In rhythm with war drums

It didn't hurt to say his name
This is it,
This is when life begins.

This is for the "windows open and stars bright"
Your skin that smells like Hemingway novels,
The "ardently" Darcy spoke about,
For making the "silent unspeakable memories",
This is for bringing to life in me
Everything I read about,
To escape what I was living.
You are the book I always wanted to write,
The story I woke up in,
Living forever in the last chapter
Of my favorite fairy tales.

You were always loving me "despite"
I needed you to love me "because"

// she falls in love the same way that she falls apart; quickly and all at once.

tumbling into his outstretched palms with a startling intensity, his fists clench and she cries.

she wants him to hurt her, leave smouldering bruises around her neck. Force your fingers down her throat and make her beg. maybe this love; choking sounds and blood.

it’s almost funny, the fact that she still hasn’t learned yet; make him your everything and you will be left with nothing.

and it feels like hell, almost romantic.

her lips part in the dimly lit room, gasping for air.

that’s the thing, there is nothing he could do to her that she wouldn’t do to herself. hold a knife to her neck and watch her soul drip from her mouth

one rib at a time you snapped them all like twigs and complained that she made too much noise. too much,

too loud.

lungs swimming in fluid yet she breathes out flowers, because that’s what pretty girls do; that’s what you wanted isn’t it babe? beauty. perfection.

don’t let him inside your head, keep him between your thighs or else everything around you will become white noise; fading into the background.

go on, romanticise it. i dare you.

force its unwilling bones into a metaphor or a simile.

pretend that we fall apart into beautiful, tragic spectacles and simply glue the broken fragments back together

she sat in the dark with a cup of tea between her shaking hands, resisting the urge to split her veins over the white walls and string her organs from the ceiling like fairy lights.

wanting to die in the most violent of ways is a lot less convenient than it seems; an unholy addiction of the rawest degree.

darling, i’m sorry he made you feel like you are hard to love,

because loving you is the easiest thing in the world //