I fell in love twice.
The first, a glorious trip over cheap champagne and the dreams of youth.
Tremendously child-like , desperately adult.
But nothing that burns so bright dies slowly without notice.
And I swore I would never love again.
The second, greatest love
Happened without intention
And saw into the future. And saw reality.
And was a great, great love.
Subtlety spread from an ember to a wildfire,
And I've learned that love hurts more as an ache
Than it ever could as an explosion,
And sometimes feels like loneliness.

The thing about love
See
Is that it can be everything, and nothing
Everywhere, and nowhere
Too much, and not enough.
All at once.
And it's hard to remember the beauty of the fire
After it burns and maims your skin.
But oh, but oh.
The beauty was there. The fire was there.
And the burn will never truly heal.

"The problem with suicide is that when it becomes an option in your mind, it's always an option."