It was a slow fall, through warm experiences and good laughs. It didn't even feel like love until I got to the end. Even then, it was not the hard surface of rock, but the scorching embrace of more.
He sang softly, less with words and more with thought. She cradled his head, stitching together his fragmented heart.
When it came to her, I became an indomitable warrior. My muscles became her shield and my lungs aided her breath. She would not fall with me by her side, for I was the wings that sprouted from her bac...
An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.
She is beyond any mortal structure of words, yet she inspires the effort to try anyway.
She was a mimicry of a facade fashioned from the half-truths of her life. She was a beautiful abomination, patched together from the most pristine and terrible parts she could find. She was a black cr...
I think I feel it The nimble, fleeting emotion That novels and authors desperately Try to convey in ink and heart blood Whose shadow festers in the loins Of teenagers and their insatiability The hidde...
You are whole today, looking back at fragments of the past. Such a hollow foundation for such a powerful person.
Youth is wasted on the young.
An intricate string made up of infinite knots and curls. Taking a step back, it really did seem so fragile. As if the smallest breeze of opportunity would cause it to snap. It held strong though, fast...
They surrounded me, bare me. Their fingers like tentacles and their desires like knives. Their fingers traced my secrets and their desires carved my skin.
Her words were slickly lacquered, dripping with venom that singed the air as they fell. She traced her tongue up my neck and whispered in a way that would shatter glass. "It's the words inbetween," sh...
Stop the bleeding! Gauze the wound!" And his voice became much softer, "Those are the words... I've yet to write." He died with that exhale. He died in a steaming carmine pool of unwritten stories tha...
I don't know anymore, whether it's a curse or a blessing to see the beauty in the ugly. Growing up simply and getting old complexly. I now see reason behind sin, and love behind pain.
Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.
She was poetry written in pen, scribbled and scrawled again and again. Ink splattered across the page. And within those scratched words, those small, sharp incisions, an image can be seen and you're l...
She had the blood of the sun running through her veins and the dust of stars at her fingertips. Her every breath birthed new cosmos and her thoughts were the super moon of the darkest night. Every wor...
Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.
Adventures kept hidden, words kept silent. You became my greatest secret. And when you left, no one knew the source of the pain I felt. No one knew you existed, except my writhing heart.
He gave up. No hint of ember behind his eyes nor life in his breath. He snipped the last, overstretched strand of hope, and nicked the strand of life by mistake. He did it with his hands.