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I have been covered in easy kisses from uneasy lips, and I know I smell weary again.

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How recklessly we turn from strangers and blindly back to lovers, to nothing.
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I am world of uncertainties disguised as a girl.
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I like my soul when it touches yours; winter turns to summer and my nightmares become dreams.
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Be patient with me, dear heart. The art of loving is a peculiar business when one has spent an eternity hating themselves.
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I like you here, between commas, where the only thing you can break now, is my lines.
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You load your words as I bare my chest, and this will be the most beautiful death.
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I will not force a pretty smile upon my face to please eyes that no longer see me.
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I think you were my taste of heaven after a lifetime of eating hell.
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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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One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.
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I drink to the ones that can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.
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Drink Myself Sleep Soul
They build ladders from my spine and they climb and they fall and they break me, and they climb again.
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I swear if I were to rip myself open, it wouldn’t be blood that poured out of me, it would be him.
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Moon child with your galaxy heart, cool your heels and stay awhile.
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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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