Love is a series of lanterns being lit where there was no need for lights to be hung, unraveling at the ceiling's spine I set a flame by means of our hybrid blood.
Already *******, just how infections are supposed to breed, how love is supposed to be I fear someone else has touched the vials.
She started a forest fire that's traveled from grass to stars to hearts and the meteors give false hope, seem all but perfectly like rain. Calm, there is a small peace in having all your worst nightmares come true.
I understand these problems because they first existed in my head, everything always begins as cells in a body now relief in seeing hurricanes split windows
because he would understand, too.
Hanging from these rooftops is what is left of just the two of us it looks pathetic like dead cigarette butts. Our nerves tied into rope.
She has contaminated us I cannot hold his hand without touching hers too, I cannot love him without watching our foundation burn to the ground but the whole world is bright when there are three lovers inside.