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True love is letting her know that her ass really does look fat in those jeans.

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Appearance Funny Herself Love True

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There’s a strange beauty in her. She shines like hell.
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Beautiful Hell Herself Shine Strange
She was a broken sky, where stars never shine and butterflies die.
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Break Butterfly Death Shine Sky
She was an artist on top of me, and soaked my sheets with poetry.
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Artist Myself Poetry Sex
We are only beautiful monsters, dreaming of god.
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Beautiful Dreams God Monster
I’m just a daydream. I don’t even know what I really am.
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Dreams Existence Myself
I gave her address to my soul. Ans she fucked the mailman.
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Address Herself Mail Man Soul
This heart. It’s broke. I don’t want it anymore.
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Broken Heart Heart Myself
Love lives. and dies. as fast as butterflies.
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Death Fast Fly Live Love
Overcoming guilt, its the first step to doing it again.
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Deep Guilty Let Go Repeat
Sometimes there are no words. Sometimes, it’s just poetry.
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Poetry Silence Word
She was only a collection of flaws and she was beautiful.
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Beautiful Collection Flaw Herself
Her memory still lingers, like a cockroach in my heart.
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Heart Herself Memories
Poems are a nice way of saying fuck you.
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Poem Talk Voice Yourself
She’s like a jar of butterflies, waiting to be opened.
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Butterfly Herself Open Wait
I messed up a lot of things. I called it poetry.
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Call Mess Myself Poetry
Romance is a dream. I can get better shit at the liquor store.
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Alcohol Dreams Myself Romance

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