Write your lustful words with the invisible ink of your tongue upon every part of my body, until my mouth begins to moan every single letter in poetry.
She plucked a feather from her magnificent wings and dipped it in ink. She wrote poems bled from her scars guided straight from the depths of her heart.
I knew it was real love the moment I could bare myself to you naked (without taking my clothes off) and I could show you all my scars (the ones that are invisible to the naked eye) and you loved me even more.
Healing is like dealing with the moods of the moon. Somedays you feel the pain at its fullest and you don’t know how to make it through it, and other days it feels a little bit more bearable.
