You always told me about the colliding
stars between my lashes, the way they
looked burnt through your chest,
because stars are only raging souls in flames.
But where there is fire,
you will always carry gasoline.
And I hid match sticks beneath
your matteress, preparing my fingertips
for the day the room went
black and you wouldn't let me
hold your hand. You had petrol between your teeth instead of spit and traces
of flint under your nails.
You stopped comparing me to the sky
and started kissing me like
ashes and smoke.

Fairytales never taught me that dragons were alive, fairytales taught me
that they can be killed
and I learnt at a young age that I was
never going to be a butterfly,
or Snow White
or Jasmine
or anything other
than the pretence of Sleeping Beauty,
but I guess this way its more like Fading Tragedy.
I am the embodiment of the phrase
"love hurts"
and I've never been more than
the hurricane on your windscreen
that you're trying so desperately to
wipe away.

The angles had guitars even before they had wings,
and his fingers wove delicately through nylon strings,
and the ends of my hair,
playing tunes that only I could hear.
His chest thumped in rythem,
echoed past morgues
and cemeteries like church bells.
His mouth was as simple as an oceans shell,
vibrating the voice of God through bones consumed in sin,
and silence.
Fragile and infinite.
He held me in a cradle made of skin off his back,
rocked me like the waves do the shore,
and sang me peacefully at rest.
He was the lords gift to mankind,
to me.
And even though his hallow fell tight around his neck,
and serpents arrived one late September night,
his wings burnt markings of Christ along the the floor.
Poison swam through his veins,
and cursed his eyes to black,
but still he sang the tones of faith.
For a boy created in hands so holy,
he sure did die a death devoid of mercy.

1.) You had more spiders in your house than friends, and you liked it that way.
You said they taught you not to fear the dead, but rather the living.
Sometimes I wish you never embraced death so much.

2.) I've collected memories of you like fireflies in glass jars and I hid them beneath the floorboards because I'm scared the glass will break
and I'll have to watch you fly away again.

3.) You were six foot and three inches of religious metaphors deeply rooted in your veins
and I think that's why you injected so much sin.

4.) I wish I could show you that the world is twice as big as we had thought
but there's still a lack of soil fertile enough for bodies like ours to grow.
I would have cut holes in the ozone if it meant I could give you the rain.

5.) It would have been your twenty third birthday on Monday and I just hope I finally get the courage to visit your grave.

6.) I don't believe much in the idea of god, but I believe firmly in your ghost.
I don't believe in hell, I think the concept is too fragile and the principal too impressionable.
But for your sake, I sure do hope there's a heaven.

7.) Sometimes I wake up at midnight and call your old number just praying that it was all a dream. But the only dream is the one where you tell me it wasn't my fault and the awakening is knowing that it was.

8.) I still don't have it in me to say your name out loud.

9.) I don't think I've been happy since 2011 and I miss you every day,
but I miss you most in the month of September because that's when it all just slipped away.

Love letters to every person who has ever seen the stars as someone's freckles:

1. You were afraid to love him.  It was okay, he did not know much except for demanding what he wanted despite the word "no".
I want you knowing that you deserve better than half *** apologies and snowstorms for white blood cells.

2. She was your first girlfriend.  Her hair reminded you of your mother's curtains in the living room.  Burgundy.  
She loved you but she had to go, I bet you wish you never hung that rope in your basement.

3.  Everything was set on fire, even your lungs.  You started finding ashes everywhere but in your shoes.  Walk away
before she gives you a new meaning for saying grace.

4.  By now you've had enough of religious boys.  And Oh My God, how your hips felt like heaven.
This is all ******* and he always went to church hungover.

5. This time you've forgotten how to sleep without his breath in your ear.  I think his name was Noah or something like that.
It was ironic how he didn't have two dogs, two cats and oh yes, that's right.  He had two lovers.

6.  You went crazy with him, he was so full of water.  You thought you'd drown when he touched you, and you did.

7.  You were so pale that I thought you were dying.  This is a letter to myself to remind me to never fall in love with a boy who cares
more about putting his cigarettes out in public ashtrays than asking me how I take my coffee.
He was extra surprised to learn that I was vegan and only drank water when we sat in cafes.