“And when we hurt someone whose hurt us, do we call it coping or cruelty?”

I dance with my demons and live to tell the tale.

He was my highest high and lowest low.

I know that in every alternate universe, you and I are together, our souls couldn’t handle anything else.

And happiness with you felt like twirling in the midst of a thousand butterflies.

The greatest love story of your life will be the one between you and your growth.

We danced through the graveyard and between the ruins for the dead and broken sang to our souls.

I’ll wish for your love even after the stars fall out of the sky.

Returning to you was wholly wrong like an angel seeking comfort in the arms of everlasting darkness.

I wanted our flower to bloom, even through the lightening storm.

Kissing you felt like poetry.

Stars sought sanctuary in the darkness between us.

Secrets secrets secrets so many but none with you.

I wish to pass like time to fall away like yesterdays.

I loose a piece of my heart when we’re apart.

It felt as if the sky would collapse into itself when she was near, a beautifully destructive chaotic thing.

My little sunflower god, even the stars worshiped you.

It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.

Pity is cruel. Pity destroys.

Cruel people are ever cowards in emergency.

How cruel, your veins are full of ice-water and mine are boiling.

In one consort there sat cruel revenge and rancorous despite, disloyal treason and heart-burning hate.

Love is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.

Religion is a history of wickedness that has served to corrupt and brutalize humankind; and, for my part, I sincerely detest it as I detest everything that is cruel.

You call me cruel after I finally chose to love myself fully before you.