“and I still hadn’t changed my
opinion,” she said. “I still
believe that
a double suicide is the absolute
highest
display of love there is. Think about it,
two lovers dying in each
other’s arms. What in hell
can be more romantic?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “staying alive
for each other’s sake, maybe?”

“What? That’s, like, not
romantic at all. The longer you stay alive,
the higher your chances to fall
out of love. Nothing
chews at love like life does. That’s
why death is the answer.
It’s the only way
to immortalize love. It’s the way towards
that plane of existence where all
you feel is love and nothing else.
I wanna go there!” She squeezed her fists
and eyes, braced herself as
she said it.

“Well,” he said, “We’re both out of a job,
unwanted by family, no home,
no cash, no future…”

“All we really need
is love!” she screamed, jumping into his arms

“Yeah,” he said, “and an overdose.”

“I’m with you, dearest cousin!”

They said,
"The most beautiful art is
looking into someone's eyes
when they talk about the
things they love."
And I said,
"Or looking at someone you love.
Or maybe, just maybe,
by looking at the mirror
is the most beautiful art
anyone should appreciate."

I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me

Saltwater rushes over warm sands,
refreshing the heat.
I part the ocean with my hands
while trying not to weep.
This memory;
so sweet,
so far away,
so faded,
my last good memory.
Winds still bring the ocean breeze
to me
wherever I be and
warm tears rushes over cheeks.

Physically, I'm okay, emotionally I am colder than any winter.

Its a moment in time,
it finds me ever so often.
Like a vague dream that lingers throughout the day,
Or like a childhood home that isn’t gone but isn’t the same.
I miss it with so much of my heart,
And I go back to it often,
It reminds me where I came from, why I am me,
It reminds me of true friends who deeply care.
The moment seems passed,
but the friend I think of often,
I can’t think of a better person than the one of this moment,
I wouldn’t wish any life without them in it.
Its funny because they’re here,
But consistency doesn’t come often,
I see a future in their eyes that I can’t forget,
It’s home and I feel I am always chasing it.
They’re not the one,
at least now,
But their character stays with me often,
Like your deep passion that leads you to a life career,
Like those postcards of paradise that lead you to your own .
I don’t know why she’s stuck around so long,
I don’t know why it comes back so often,
The peacefulness is kind of melancholy and lonely,
But the kind of lonely that you share with another.
Its almost taunting its place in my life,
How it follows between friends so often,
It never seems to fit, like a daisy taken with the weeds,
Like a singer in the shower, with no audience to listen.
I want my friend close,
But how with pain so often?
I can’t seem to bring the past to the present,
I just want to acclimate to the change without loss.
I could go on forever,
My heart cries often,
This may just be a guide for one to come along,
It may just lead me to a home with similar peculiarity.
I will carry this flower,
I will smell it often,
I won’t forget the past with all the good it brings,
I will take what I’ve learned and trek to my home out there.

// 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 //