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Every now and then even the sweetest souls burn it to the ground, just to remind the rest of them who exactly they are fucking with.

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She tasted like wildflowers; crushed, wet wild flowers carried in sticky palms through farmers’ fields, just before dawn.
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I think I saw you again in the moonlight tonight, and I swear I could taste the hints of it alll.
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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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Whatever it is that stirs your soul listen to that. Everything else is just noise.
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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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I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.
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One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.
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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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Oh my darling, you mustn’t fill up on memories alone, there is heartache and regret yet to be served.
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Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun, from clever minds and bitter hearts.
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I have been covered in easy kisses from uneasy lips, and I know I smell weary again.
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You can fan the flames with hate or stroke the fire with love, either way, it’s going to burn.
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I am world of uncertainties disguised as a girl.
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He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.
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And that is the nature of us poets and whores, to make things hard: dicks, choices, life.
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