“Even the stars wish for you but the night is ours and you’re mine.”

I cannot tell if it is a blessing from an old god or lovely dark art only that he holds my heart.

And you will always be my most beautiful someone.

And his rough hands upon my porcelain skin had me howling at the moon.

And every time I care I die a little.

There are parts of me that beg him to devour all of me.

The art of harvesting pain – poetry.

Poetry is not a cure for sadness but it makes the pain bearable.

I’m laying bare still untouched by the hands I crave completely taken by words.

You didn’t need to make her cuts this deep.

She dances barefoot through the smoke upon ashes from a broken world  – she is hope.

A loving reminder at least we are lonely together.

Steal back your heart – self-love.

And then I understood you were never my rescue yet always my escape.

He may never slay a dragon but he will grow old with you begging for death to leave you alone.

And they wrapped her in darkness until she became it – Lilith.

Are you aware of the wilderness you awoke when you broke me?

Sentimentality is loving something more than God does.

Realize how good you really are.

I love to write and I assure you I write regularly. But I write for myself, for my own pleasure. And I want to be left alone to do it.

Love me through your eyes and let your skin follow.

I’ll be a fool anywhere but never in love, I promise me that.

When your soul share the pain of theirs I would call it love.

Water yourself with love so the seeds in you may grow.

Forget about silly games about even sillier thrones. I know a game of love and I’m in it to win it.