Better to remain single
than
be hooked with a devil.

There's something scary and beautiful
about doing something wrong

There's something scary about almost getting caught, someone nearly finding out

There's something beautiful about getting away with it unscathed and feigning innocence

There's something nasty about knowing its bad

Something terrible about not giving a **** either way

There's something scary and beautiful about doing something you know is wrong

We'll call it **exhilaration

In the glimmer of the winter-
I, missing you,
missing the we,
missing us.
In the frost of the snow-
you, buried deep,
buried and lost,
buried as our past.
In the middle of December-
cold is the wind,
long is the night,
gone is the warmth.
In the end, all is lost, memories fade-
Gone is the day.

She looks so gorgeous hanging there:
Her eyes like glass and silky hair.
The bits of skin that still remain,
Make me think of porcelain...
But it's her bones that speak to me.

The wind eternal kicks up then.
It swells and drops, and back again.
The perfume of rot calls it near,
And it's only then that I can hear...

The wind whispers through her frame,
That's when it tells me her true name.
They call me sick, and though it's true,
I can't stop doing what I do.

There is no love without a name--
We say the words; it's not the same--
And none can speak quite like the wind.
Now what's your name? Shall we begin?

*** and love
are not synonyms
I didn't fall in love with you
because you touched me
I fell in love with you
because you made flowers grow
inside of me
when no one else could

h.a

I write letters to the dead because they are quiet and they listen.

I write letters to the dead because they like the night as much as I do.

I write letters to the dead because they never write back.