“Nothing cuts deeper than being made a fucking fool at a time you’re already so vulnerable.”

Lately, none of what seems to matter when I’m holding you and maybe, baby, we’re getting better.

And you, you’ll always be the most brilliant mystery a masterpiece of october midnight hauntings my best dressed trauma at the evening masquerade.

What an absolute waste land loving you has become. Such a shame, to let it be any less.

Words lit low on kerosene pages, familiar comforts like asphyxiation.

Bad habits could’ve led me down so many worse paths than back to you.

Life won’t wait but you and I? we’re gonna live forever.

Thankyou for showing me not everything with love will leave.

Tomorrow will be the reminder that its all just a blur of oasis and vodka.

There’s a sincerely bittersweet truth in the way neither of us deserve me loving you.

Maybe the most perfect words I’ve ever heard, beauty and sadness, are these three. Not, I love you. But, Let it be.

There’s a destitute side, a breakdown in me. My subversive pursuit to finally be free.

All those questions that I was too afraid to ask? In the end I lay down cold welcoming the answers to tear me in half.

A hello from you can still bring me to my knees, set me free. More than any goodbye ever could.

Honesty, I don’t know how to love you less. Let alone not at all. I try my absolute best some days but this just makes me miss you more.

Its like you sat back and listened saw everything it would take you learnt how to hurt me perfectly and then could hardly wait.

I guess that’s the thing with forever you only get it once. So when you find yours in someone there’s not a thing you can do to forget and nobody else could ever come close.

I am a mother because my hearts live outside my body.

How can something drain and fill me all at once.

Love is the only freedom from attachment. When you love everything, you are attached to nothing.

The disease that knowledge brings is arrogance, and the disease that worship brings is showing off

Poetry reveals that there is no empty space.

The rose and the thorn, and sorrow and gladness are linked together.

Virtue pardons the wicked, as the sandal-tree perfumes the axe which strikes it.

Remembrance is to the heart what water is to the fish. And what is the state of a fish that leaves water?