“I don’t need you to myself in order to love you as my own.”

Curves on a body are invitations to desire. Embrace them wherever they are.

Reserve the language of sculpture for the art of sculpture. Lest you confuse beauty with the shape of a jaw or art with the size of a stomach.

My hands reached your body like braille, and your curves and edges tell a story of beauty and grace.

Your trauma doesn’t build character, it builds a wall around you.

What good is forever when all we have is now?

Grief is a love preservative. My heart is a jar. My blood is the brine. The memory of you I steal inside.

Don’t ever think I am fragile because I asked you to handle me with care. It was not a plea, it was a warning. My strength keeps me safe but I can’t say the same for you.

In leaving me you turned of the future into a creature of the past.

These secrets sit sourly on my tongue. They linger the longer I go without a sip of your sweet elixir.

How exhausting it must be to fear death, when you can simply howl at the moon.

Your lips I see they without from me, but your eyes can’t keep a secret.

The fear that I would one day run out of things to say to you became the hope that soon I can sit in silence with you.

You met me whole and left me broken.

Nothing is ever black and white but I’m sick and tired of all the grey area.

Find yourself a friend who makes you let go of secrets you didn’t know you were keeping.

You and I are the greatest love story ever untold.