"wildfires" poems
This is the Last Straw –
and Something About Sacred Buckets of Holistic Ice Water
****** predators, human smugglers
Starvation in the Sudan, civil war
in Syria, mass executions in China
Journalists murdered almost everywhere
Fashionable infanticide, homelessness
Unemployment, urban terrorism
Mass ****** school shootings, wildfires, racism
An unstable national government
Anti-Semitism, border desperation
Riots, arson, ecclesiastical corruption
**** alcoholism, historical cleansing
Skinheads, abuse, Khardassianistas
Volcanos, the death penalty, free verse
Affluenza, Jerry Springer, The View
Herbal tea, antifa, anti-antifa
And the soul-sucking existential despair
Of inspirational singer-songwriters:
Nah, not a bit worried about plastic straws
But I must go now; The Voices are telling me
To pour a bucket of ice water over my head
(As long as it’s not a plastic bucket)
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
you caused this fire
with a dimpled smile and a plane ticket
can’t suffocate a blaze with a match
petrol running down my legs
wanna watch me burn at the stake?
7,000 miles of wildfires called me by your name
like a moth drawn to a flame
we kissed on the light up floor
your fingers inside of me, it was divine to me
surrendering my soul to my god
left my lipstick scars all over you
i ate the apple from the softness of your hand
our garden of eden was no holy land
i let you knock at the door of my spine
no malice in my voice, come inside
but baby, you weren’t expecting
me to multiply
like a moth drawn to a flame
i bit your tongue in the break of day
wanted to taste your blood for a change
nothing like a little emotional
devastation to get me through it
yell it más, señor
til your vocal cords are ******
oath taken in sacred silence
tragedy and insanity and is
it all a game to you?
because you hid while i sought
yell it más, señor
yell it más
and when i told you of the flower blossoming within
you cried like a boy for his mother
you see, there’s no way we can keep it
not for your career
and the next day on the 405
my soul wrung empty inside
suffocating loneliness, all-consuming
75mph, nearly opened my door
told my therapist i wanted the asphalt to eat me alive
they took me to the madhouse
while you had a pint and a laugh miles from my hospital bed
they said
“she wants to end her life with a baby inside, oh, what a terrible state she’s in”
the doctor watched me as i cried
with cigarette breath and roaming hands
forced the wand inside of me
at the same time i jumped over the ledge
and did you know i laid in silence
while he whispered in my ear
“good girl, it’s a girl”, you see, oh?
can’t you feel the joy?
of creating something like God herself?
like vines sprouting from the soil?
but Oceania, so much panic, yeah
too far, didn’t wanna come near
my ash-strewn wreckage
like a moth drawn to a flame
blazing light, burned just right
i wanted you to suffocate my pain
pretended it didn’t exist for our
transpacific love games
i’ll be Marilyn and you be Errol
the actor who can’t survive any longer
and the one who devoured a woman whole
yell it más, señor
oh god i’m bleeding on the bathroom floor
so much sacrifice for paradise
but isn’t this what it’s for?
tragedy and insanity and
oh no, it’s all a game, i see
yell it más, señor
yell it más
aliel
enaj
Apr 25, 2022
Apr 25, 2022 at 8:08 AM UTC
She keeps asking what he does,
though his answers are recycled:
French bulldogs, paintball,
a seventh-grade broken nose.
The basket of fries between them
feels like an interview.
She teases about sweat-stuck bangs,
neon-laced Docs,
his faux leather squeaking when he moves.
Her smile forgives empty stories,
softens each silence.
Condensation slips down her glass,
her knee brushes his,
a spark he does not catch,
his throat working like a valve.
The door opens, closes,
a draft carries smoke and cedar.
distant wildfires.
Outside, a truck unloads shrimp.
A box bursts on the pavement,
pink shells and thawing ice
sliding into gutter water.
Curses flare into the alley.
Engines idle.
Hydraulics hiss.
The stoplight clicks red to green,
green to red,
its metronome louder than either of them.
Somewhere past Brockway Summit
a ridgeline blooms orange.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 4:52 PM UTC
I don't need calm -
I want stampede in my mind
I want sparklers in my soul
I want wildfires in my heart
I don't need calm -
And I wouldn't want calm
If the roots of my madness
Will be springing from your veins
/pc
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
The veins in my heart,
rooted down to my stomach,
and from these roots began to grow a tree,
and on its branches caterpillars did roam
right there in my stomach,
they made their home.
yet I was alone.
Enter the lumberjack.
The caterpillars cocooned,
ready to begin the transformation
from girl to woman, oh, the sensation!
Time ticked on,
the lumberjack and I,
with that little spark in our eye,
from the tree, grew a garden, into woods
our love resounding above the forest canopy
the feral instincts, the cinders, the shade
until finally the Sun no longer shone
so the wall of qualms had to go,
in the form of trees,
one by one.
chopped.
Yet.
the wildfires had sparked
and the cocoons were now butterflies
and the forest we grew together was ablaze
what he didn't chop, my cinders singed,
ash by ash life was ceasing to be,
and then from the woods,
were we forced to flee.
and the butterflies flew free
the blossoms,
the trees,
burned
but the butterflies flew free,
in my stomach,
they are free
so now a bit of our dead forest lives in me.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
Mother Nature
(Poem by Serenus)
Mother, Oh Mother
You’re such a woman scorn
Your children mistreated you
And now we’re caught in your storm
Your womb, birthed the earth
And from the earth, we were born
We use to be so close
But now we’re just a family torn
Smoke stole your sweet scent
We scorched your beautiful hair
Your skin sealed in cement
Suffering from thirst, but we didn’t care
We force fed you poison
We put a price on your head
Taking your gifts for granted
And we left you for dead
But Mother, Oh Mother
You have come back
With a vengeance!
Your temper is heated
With no signs of forgiveness
Your touch use to be gentle
Tough-love, but modest
But your backlash has been brutal
The judgment of a goddess
Hurricanes, acid rains,
Monsoons, tsunamis
Droughts, water spouts
And quakes that sneak up calmly
Blizzards, floods, tornadoes, and wildfires
And we never cried for you Mommy
Now our situation is absolutely dire
We are begging for a day that’s balmy
To protect yourself from your people
You are fighting back
And all we can do is stop our evil
Reflect-and stand back
But Mother, Oh mother
Can we be saved?
Or have you sealed our fate
For the way we behaved?
…Before she can be her children’s savor
Rescue us, from our own bad behavior
She must save herself "first
So don’t blame her
She’s a mother
Protective power
Is in her nature
She said she’ll get back to us later
…First she has to communicate
With “The Father”…Her creator
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 7:45 PM UTC
you draw your self hatred out like a kid draws out small pictures
and play double dutch with the hands on a clock, knowing how
unsafe it is out there, flirting with death and flicking me off when
i wrote out the reasons why you should stay, that this autumn fallout
is only a misconstruction of your mind's witching hour, that dystopia
won't linger and utopia will be home soon, it will blossom into your lungs
and turn the simplicity of your broken soul into something completely
quintessential and complex, like an origami rabbit, i fold my sharp edges
and twist myself to be malleable and secure for you, maybe i'm not too certain
of myself or you, but i'm not too certain on a lot of subjects, i'm worried
of being thrown into the arsonist world you started, covering up the sky with
black dense fog, the type of fog that would happen only in dangerous wildfires
i'm a controlled wildfire, but i let my fire spread just to help control your fire
- kra
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 5:23 AM UTC
it's pathetic how i always compare you to the ocean or the moon when you're actually a wildfire. burning the bushes. burning the bridge. when i first saw you i kept a glass of water in my pocket to keep you away from me, for i knew that you'd be hard to avoid if you got any closer. but then i saw you gently caressing the bushes before eating them alive and i swore i had convinced myself to not fall for you. now that your flame had kissed me, i'm gripping you tightly like i'm afraid you'd burn me. the funny thing is that you're not even as hot as the other wildfires; you're warm. and i've always been cold.
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 6:41 AM UTC
God must've painted the sunset in your eyelids
and the stars in your eyes
he must've made a jungle out of your heart
that everyone keeps getting lost in,
drowned by a forest of wildfires.
he must've tucked sunshine in the corners of your smiles.
he must've patterned the oceans and seas with your words --
i keep drowning in them.
he must've tried to recreate the softness of heaven in your lips.
blackholes may have been named after your eyes --
they keep ******* me in and I can't help but see the birth of stars in their edges.
you are a whole universe of your own,
and I like exploring the corners of it alone.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC
in this
pocketful
of limbo
the distance rises
in curls of smoke
a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
of forest
Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
sacred texts
into my oxygen
They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
playing inside
my psyche's
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
as I spit out
the
hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
internal
engravings
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
grounding me
like this,
my tongue
tripping
over velvet
stance of warrior
assuaged into silk
Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
I am simply
tied to
the urgency
of the little novas
about to
explode
While I wait
I tend to
the wildfires.
to make sure they
are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
it is time
I let the whole of
me burst
into the
fire -wrapped
tips of
stars
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 12:56 AM UTC
When you shed that chrysalis of clothing
Releasing the dragonfly wings of your longing
Wholly among the sanctity of your skystrung ribs
Your hips gyrating on the revolutions of the moon
The astronomer in my belly burns to look up to the sky
And see you spreading yourself among the singing night
My fingers, matches skywriting
The contours of your body
With the lingerings of fire
Nails soft scratching the runes of desire
Among the hidden temples of your skin
A secret language you twistup and rumble
In like the sea swallowing a storm
Inviting me to wade in your waters
Till the lighting comes
To reunite you with the heavens
Let me lick a long crusade
From summit of spine down
The long whirling dervish of your legs
Relight wildfires only to douse them in all
The tsunami of your wet
And wash you in the convergence of thunder
As it rumbles among the fault lines of your bones
Till we rattle the pearly gates loose
And quake the caverns of hell
Grind yourself upon me into
Something so much
Sweeter then stardust
Break your body open
Into a firefly and ignite
Upon the rough embers of my wings
This friction will elicit a diction
Spoken only in vowels and the
And in the crescent arch of your spine
As we sling ourselves skyward as fireworks
To rupture open the night
Suffocate me on the whirlwind mane of your hair
There is a lioness behind those lips waiting to devour me
A sacred hunting upon moonlight to take me in the dark
Don’t you see
All of this is yours
The rumble of the earth
The heavy breath of the heavens
The match
The candle
And the sweet rush of the burn
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
this is (not) a heartache poem
about
you or the way
your eyes stood glossy and
your mouth silent
in large crowds of people –
your
demeanour slowly playing
over me
time and time again,
even when i swore to myself that i would
shut you out
for good
but,
like your smile stuck in my brain,
it kept coming
back.
please understand that there is (no)
heartache here
because this is(n’t) a
poem
about how i spent my life in
paragraphs
filled with every beautiful,
treacherous
word i could think of
while you lived in
shallow, broken
sentences
or
how i could see you perfectly
through the flesh and bone and ********
that
nobody else knew about.
could you see
how much
i longed for you to
take me in the way i
was –
speak to me in the carefully rationed
words of your
stories –
anything that could’ve
brought me closer to you but instead,
only burned
inconceivably
in the wildfires of all you
cared about?
did i end up in those fires too?
were you so certain that i would just
forget
how you stopped sending me
the texts
that i waited
oh-so long for?
were you so certain that i
would have
let you slip away so easily
after the way you lead me to
believe
there was something
between us?
well, i did(n’t),
yet, just the thought of it
kills
me to remember how
you were the brightest star in my universe but
i
was just a mere speck of dust
in yours.
this will (not) be another poem
where
i dream about
watching every bone in
your body cave in
or
feeling your breath
against my ears
but (no),
trust me, there is (no) heartache
that i have
for you
or anything you ever did
in the last seven months we spent
together
that always left me dreaming
on a prayer -
but never listened to.
i know you didn’t want me.
i know you didn’t care.
i was just another one to you.
this is (not) a poem about
how i’m now
broken
because you left me
even though
you weren’t mine –
for where i am
now is(n’t)
heartache.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:33 AM UTC
i miss the way fingertips felt against my cold skin
the soft touch that only a lover can provide
the kind of touch that can melt icebergs and start wildfires
i miss the sweet sound of whispered words that could start a revolution and the goosebumps that came with each mumbled "i love you"
i miss the feeling of drifting off in a pair of arms that transformed an embrace into a home and made a safety net around me as if protection could only exist within this space between fingertips and other ligaments
i miss the feeling that you provided
i miss the feeling of being wanted
i miss loving something, someone
i feel as if i have lost all sense of direction
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:38 PM UTC
They say,
the Scarecrow stares straight
and never blinks
he thinks, but never speaks,
just listens to the writhing vines of bindweed:
Turn the earth, sweet arteries.
They say,
the Scarecrow was once a man.
He had hands that knew
perfect flavor of skin
And had red, winding veins of his own.
But that was a long time ago.
They say,
the Scarecrow blistered his tongue
on blunderbuss barrels;
Spat bullets.
Waged war against himself,
and lost his speech when the time came
to beg for forgiveness.
They say,
That by August, the Scarecrow's
Blood forgot to boil,
or simply didn't care anymore.
That when he found love fleeting
it was indifference, not hate,
that desiccated his chest
like prairie drought.
Dear Hollow Martyr who fears not
the white heat of sparks
or dry-weather wildfires.
Stand devout in your inertia,
bleeding apathy like canyons bleed echoes.
After all, it's all you've got to offer
except dead stillness, they say,
so callous it keeps the crows away.
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 9:17 PM UTC
Children of Louisiana,
Swept away and drowned,
In the river’s flood
And the ocean surge.
Never have recovered
Fully from the rain falling down,
And of a city that was purged.
Ignored by the government
And its fellow man,
Follow in a long line of sufferers
Since the melting, ice age glaciers
And even a tsunami in the North Sea
That wiped out Doggerland.
Dark Ages got darker as people ran
And Britain’s white cliffs were sheared.
Times got better and then got worse,
But the people carried on.
Now, the floods are a weekly thing,
A blip on a newscast,
As lost as the victims in a mess
Of other disasters,
Of wildfires, droughts and don’t
Even mention the quaking earth
Or volcanoes! We can’t take credit
For causing those!
Rich men in their castles,
Feasting and clapping each other
On their fatty backs,
Rolling in the spoils and spills
Of oil, on the flaming water of
The American plains.
Sheikhs in old Mesopotamia
Whine about oil pipelines,
Promised to them by President Cheney,
While the people starve.
Bloated oligarchs spread destruction
All over the world, from
The Congo to Chernobyl,
Melting icecaps and raising the sea,
Sinking islands where they don’t live,
Vacationing in the Maldives,
On special rates before those go under.
They won’t fix Miami, but let it sink,
But not before they plunder
The empty towers built on foolish dreams.
Of course, they’ll be the last to go,
Crammed into mansions up in the Alps,
Fighting with the European nobles
Over who gets a crumbling palace
Now sitting on the last ice floe.
A few American cousins round each other up
To catch the Dixie Flyer down to New Orleans,
Trying to hide from the polar vortex,
A dazzling case of ignorance and greed,
Only to find the tracks buried in the sea…
Down in the mud of the deep, brown sea.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 4:26 PM UTC
really hot days
remind me of my home
the one across the sea
with mangos ripe on the vine
and yellowed grass
if I close my eyes,
i can almost taste the dust in the air
feel the warm embrace of my family members
that i miss so dearly
smell the petrichor off the hot cement floor after a fresh monsoon rain
time zones apart feel like worlds apart
and they are
when your family is dying
and there is no way to comfort your aunt
because her husband is taking his last breaths
there was no chance for her to say goodbye
to her father, to her husband,
both lay in hospitals
continents apart
isolated, but not unloved
both gone, not even a month apart
the borders have been closed for i don’t even know how long
there is no physical way for us, let alone her own children, to be present
all we do is wait
most of my memories are spent on
drinking chai on the veranda
or dancing in the rain with Papa
playing holi with pails of water mixed with “gulal” and water pistols.
seeing the smiles of all my family members,
together once again.
really hot days
remind me of my home
smoke from the wildfires mimics the smog in the air
the sun - a red ball in the grey sky
if i shut my eyes real tight
i can still get a glimpse of us on the rooftop, celebrating life.
Jan 7, 2022
Jan 7, 2022 at 11:15 PM UTC
♀︎♀︎♀︎
Tornadoes, floods, earthquakes & wildfires.
Welcome to the four classical elements, &
you probably thought they were quaint old
concepts from a dated, medieval antiquity.
The fifth element, Ether [Akashic Record];
Woman is puberty, ************ childbirth,
& menopause & fifthly, clitoral ****** hm
♀︎♀︎♀︎
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 3:09 PM UTC
in the landscape of you
I am a wandering soul
with but my words
for protection
as I make you my goal
in the expanse of your vista,
I wear the cloak of our depth
your heartbeats in mine
as we breathe
the same breath
I feel your rugged peaks,
your valleys that sink
your core's wildflower essence
that stains me with ink
I bathe in its fragrance,
a tattooed poet's imprint
in the primal spheres in my being
enveloping my core
all the clearer
for seeing
and when your rough
tempest storms
are afar, yet in view
I dive straight to
their center
into the magnet of you
for
I will water your deserts
infuse fresh creeks
in your dry
I will run through your forests
as I call to your wild
as I straddle your cliffs,
festoon your tundra
with blooms
steam will rise from
your earthcore
and fill up my womb
Through the dew on our lashes
through my lava that flows,
the stars in your eyes
make my universe glow
these geographic measures
I take
as you let me inside
our bloodstreams merging
as we get lost in the tides
electric pulsed woodlands
that spread iced wildfires
slaking the loops
of floodgates' desire
and I will hold you together
if you fall, torn apart
bonded forever
in this map of our
hearts
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:43 PM UTC
It's been raining for months and I can't turn the faucet off – which reminds me: the sea is yours if you want it, and you don't have to be afraid of a little rainwater anymore. When you walk to your car with your shoes off and most of your sanity folded in your jeans, when your feet slap against puddles and you are remembering that you left your jacket on the doorknob, don't ever wonder if I will awaken suddenly, crying because you never stayed long enough for me to write that song to the beat of your hesitant pulse. Your car, evidently can take you farther than my hands can, but no road leading to your house and no street lamp mocking you silently knows that I hang pearls on the threads of your sanity and my stairs groan loudest when you are trying to leave quietly. If you turn around now – if you run back and tell me that you want to be sky to me and nothing else, then I will let you, as long as you promise to bleed the next eighty thousand sunrises; I will stop mentioning you to forests and looking for you in satellites and in smoldering coals, if you promise to murmur my name when the horizon is stretching and prostrating itself across the late evening. I will tell you where the sun goes when the Atlantic swallows her whole, if you tell me about the streams of cirrus clouds backing up your bloodstream. And I never ask you to search for the wildfires under my shirt again, if you give me all of the starlight under yours.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
I have some very destructive tendencies
I'm a bad judge of character
Whether the the character is my own or not
Begs to be determined.
I tried the pretty, pleasant method
Of letting the venom from my veins
But these emotions have succeeded in their task
Of rotting me from the inside out.
The floor embraced my pen
And my ears were lovingly teased
I tried to fall into the high from my headset
But your passion did not sate me.
Elemental damage was never my strong suit
As prone as we are to wildfires
You'd think the liquid cauterizing me
Would hurt less than these god **** thoughts.
And tonight the truth made its way to me
My shadow understands; his love is pure
I'm a cruel, witless ***** a scourge in my own right
But he still dries my tears.
I can't even pretend I'm not hurt
So I'm voiding my lungs tonight
Peppered smoke promises relief
But I'm soon discerning the lie.
We are back to square one but
All the pop music these days is too melancholy
I've had altitude sickness before,
But this time it's different.
And I smile,
a painful thing that I'm glad there's no evidence of
I told you these things are rare, like you
This inspiration at the cost of my heart
But this is my salvation
When you move from prose to poetry
That's when I'm done with you.
My habits die hard
But unlike you, the feelings, the talent,
the slow agonizing death by fire,
the bad character
are all mine.
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
Positive vibes spread like wildfires
Return to the world something to admire
Forget sorrows to smile at a stranger
A smile can make a stranger stay until later
They may walk on by
They may smile back
It might **** a cry
It might stop an attack
The process will repeat
...and repeat
From all of upleft elite
To the downright deadbeat
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 2:39 AM UTC
Burnt to ashes
how do I spark my flame?
Perhaps, embers somewhere
still breathe
and so I write again?
Bonfires and wildfires
people see so well
but the fire in my heart
remains unseen.
If you ever come along
and empty the sea on me,
I'd would still be burning
till he came,
a drop of tear from his eyes
is all I need
to douse the raging fire
deep inside.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 10:34 PM UTC
We are explosive.
Two sticks of dynamite waiting for the match.
Just one whisper of a spark and we'll go,
Dying to impersonate the stars
Like fireworks in the night.
Fire, you and I
But different, if you know where to look.
Flames of summer
You are wild and destructive,
Spreading yourself too thin
Like wildfires in the drought
Roaring challenges at the sun.
But in the cricket-filled cool nights,
Bringing comfort and memories to the young at heart
Taming yourself for a time beneath stars that bear my sign
Burning out in the darkness before sunrise
Ready to return at first spark.
Pyre of winter,
Tamed by the frost and wind
Leaning on hearths for strength
Keeping vigil in the long night
Raging against dark and dusk and death
Yearning for what was lost in the fall
Waiting for the rebirth of spring
Sending up grey prayers to stars that bear your sign
Fire, you and I.
Born to stars of flame
Raging, roaring, writhing
At the whim of the wind
Waiting
For the spark.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
Words cut thru swords
Spreading far like wildfires
I am here standing in dire
Dive deeper so you'll discover
but I won't meet you there
Back on land
Jun 24, 2023
Jun 24, 2023 at 11:55 AM UTC
I'm selfish. Hell no I don't want you to be happy with him. I don't even want you to be thinking about him. The only guy I will ever truly want you thinking about is me. Sure I'm selfish for wanting you even though I'm not sure you ever even really wanted me in the first place. Looking back at the nights you asked me to stay but I said no because I didn't want it to happen that way. I didn't want you to be able to blame the alcohol for what happened. Those nights are some of my biggest regrets, all I had to do was say yes, stay with you, have a few more drinks, see what would occur. It could've been nothing, problem is it also could've been everything. All the feelings could've poured from your lips until yours met mine in a kiss that sparked wildfires. Walls and clothes could've been shed as we became one heart and one being for even a minute. Could've been the start of forever between us. The only forever I have ever actually planned on. It could've been nothing, maybe a few more drinks until we both just passed out on the couches, music still playing, dog still bouncing around looking to play. Wake up the next morning heads pounding feeling ***** for all the wrong reasons. Memories are all I have left of you. All these words I've spewed onto these pages. He has you though, in his arms, in his bed, in his heart. I'm selfish. It ****** me off that all I have to hold are the same bottles we held those nights. Not knowing if it would've been everything or nothing makes me hate myself more everyday I wake up alone. I don't care if it broke his heart, sent him in a downward spiral, dropped him into this pit I live in while I rose out of it. Give me one more of those nights. One last chance to make everything happen. Let me justify this selfishness by proving to me it wasn't only me who wanted all of it. Be selfish with me for a night, you could love it almost as much as I do. We could live together selfishly. Who needs him, not me and not you. I have you, you have me, we could live selfishly.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC