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

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I have God in my words and the devil in my ear, and a sister who keeps telling me to find my magic.
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I write because suicide is no longer an option.
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You were a lifetime ago, yet here I am, still pulling pieces of you out of me.
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I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn’t be blood that poured out of me, it would be him.
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Be bold, child. You are rare and you are brazen light.
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I have known love and I have known loss, but in the end, they both looked a lot like you.
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She is of the strangest beauty and the darkest courage, and when she walks with intent the earth trembles beneath her feet.
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If I had known our last kiss was to be our last kiss, I would have kissed you as if it was our first.
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He left love letters at my door, and a chalk outline on the highway.
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He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.
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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.
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Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.
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Every now and then I roam the catacombs in my head and attempt to resurrect you, and make you shiny again.
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One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.
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You load your words as I bare my chest, and this will be the most beautiful death.
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Whatever it is that stirs your soul listen to that. Everything else is just noise.
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