"I could write so many **** poems about you, but I’m holding back. I remember when I wanted a muse, but I swear I don’t even want one anymore."

Tears dont start in the eyes.
They start in the pit of the stomach. Where butterflies are torn apart wing by wing like lovers do to petals.
Congratulations, You’ve murdered them all.
Now all that remains is decaying caskets.

That’s what you meant right?
When you said you don’t believe beautiful things can survive  ?

I’ll always end up forgiving you. Regardless of the pain.
Cause that’s who I am.
I rather endure the pain of two
then hurt someone else while trying to save myself.

I think the worst part about seeing things that remind me of you isn’t that they remind me of you, it’s that I can’t show you them

You are poetry.
Every square centimeter of your existence
Is it’s own iambic pentameter .
& I can’t help but notice
the way your smile never fails to rhyme with your cheekbones.