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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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How recklessly we turn from strangers and blindly back to lovers, to nothing.
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I drink to the ones who can sit with their souls and not wish for sleep and the nightmares it brings.
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When I told you that I hadn’t been broken before; it wasn’t a fucking challenge.
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Every now and then I roam the catacombs in my head and attempt to resurrect you, and make you shiny again.
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They build ladders from my spine and they climb and they fall and they break me, and they climb again.
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The tide has pulled the storm from my soul again. But in all that is right or wrong and pure, there is you, and your stunning ability to blur the lines and just be.
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He calms my chaos and I fuel his fire. We are a match made between heaven and hell.
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One day I will fall gracefully to pieces. Until then, I’ll just fall.
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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 could lose myself in you or die blissfully, trying.
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Death Lose Myself Try
Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.
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Pleasure or pain; I’ll take either as long as it is laced with passion.
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I write because suicide is no longer an option.
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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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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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