She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind.
I am a lover of words and tragically beautiful things, poor timing and longing, and all things with soul, and I wonder if that means I am entirely broken, or if those are the things that have been kee...
And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices... life.
I hold you in the safest place I keep. Somewhere between memories and scars.
Life is just a slide. Back and forth between loving and leaving, remembering and forgetting, holding on and letting go.
I kept you so well, buried beneath the darkest shame and stilled with filthy lies. Perhaps I should have dug deeper.
They say she is too much to handle, but when the moon pulls the tide and the wolves howl her name, blessed are the ones who have been taken by her wild.
Whatever it is that stirs your soul, listen to that. Everything else is just noise.
I have licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge I ever burned. I fear no hell from you.
She is of the strangest beauty and the darkest courage, and when she walks with intent the earth trembles beneath her feet.
