black
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He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.

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I write because suicide is no longer an option.
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He left love letters at my door, and a chalk outline on the highway.
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If I had known our last kiss was to be our last kiss, I would have kissed you as if it was our first.
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He was exactly like hitting a red light during a killer streak of green.
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Poetry is the loveliest art. It has a wretched way of revealing our own character when we think we are judging the poets.
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Too many times I have given this heart away, I am afraid it is no longer mine.
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There is no greater power than that of the sun, the moon, and a woman who knows her worth.
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She tasted like wildflowers; crushed, wet wild flowers carried in sticky palms through farmers’ fields, just before dawn.
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Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun, from clever minds and bitter hearts.
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I have God in my words and the devil in my ear, and a sister who keeps telling me to find my magic.
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I still pick at these memories of you; I pick them until they bleed.
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Blood Memories Yourself
One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.
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We were electric together, you and me; we turned hurting each other into a goddamned symphony.
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Every now and then even the sweetest souls burn it to the ground, just to remind the rest of them who exactly they are fucking with.
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Moon child with your galaxy heart, cool your heels and stay awhile.
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He was all dangerous eyes and beautiful lies, but I ached. for him to lie to me some more.
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