“You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.”

I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn’t be blood that poured out of me, it would be him.

Oh my darling, you mustn’t fill up on memories alone, there is heartache and regret yet to be served.

When I told you that I hadn’t been broken before; it wasn’t a fucking challenge.

I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.

I have been covered in easy kisses from uneasy lips, and I know I smell weary again.

And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices, life.

One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.

Whatever it is that stirs your soul listen to that. Everything else is just noise.

He calms my chaos and I fuel his fire. We are a match made between heaven and hell.

Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.

We were electric together, you and me; we turned hurting each other into a goddamned symphony.

I drink to the ones who can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.

The tide has pulled the storm from my soul again. But in all that is right or wrong and pure, there is you, and your stunning ability to blur the lines and just be.

I breathe him in so deep that when he is gone I exhale and taste him again.

I will not force a pretty smile upon my face to please eyes that no longer see me.

Moon child with your galaxy heart, cool your heels and stay awhile.