“If you were ever to cut my flesh open, i would bleed in broken dreams & love i failed to give. for all that i have not done consume me more than all of the things I’ve done.”

He is right in front of me and I’m still grieving his loss – abandonment issues.

But hopes are just dreams and not all dreams come true. So I hope of you, knowing very well that you could never come true.

Look into my eyes and tell me I a matter. Then in my eyes see how it’s always been you who matters.

There is so much rain in my heart and yet it feels so empty. Then I remember, for flowers to grow, you need sunshine too.

The cold consumes me. The oceans in my eyes freeze. It’s 2 AM and I can’t move. Your loss is too much to bear.

This soul of yours has lived a million lives before you. Listen to it, believe in it. It knows the way, it has seen it all.

There is freedom in loneliness. A kind of freedom that hurts. The kind you wish you never had.

Is it a boon or curse I wonder; to feel another’s pain so much to consider it my own? To moan another’s funeral as if it were my own?

I had a playlist of his name. Of songs he would send me now and then. Now every song I hear is a ghost of him. A reminder that he is here. But he is not.

How does it feel to have everything and still suffer from the lack of it? I have all the love in me, but without yours it means nothing at all.

The ache in my bones have owned me all my life. Your love is finally setting me free.

They say body is nothing but the dress for the soul. So does this mean all my pain and all my tragedies are now tattoos on my soul?

The Love in your eyes will forever hold a glimpse of me.

The greatest longing I will ever have, is for the love I always deserved but never received.

For without tragedies there is no life & what is life if not all our tragedies put together?

If your eyes could speak what stories would it tell? Would it even be able to speak or would it end up choking on all the water?

I have often endeavoured to view the circulation of the blood in terrestrial animals, but without success, by reason that no parts of their bodies were sufficiently transparent.

I have divers times endeavoured to see and to know, what parts the Blood consists of; and at length I have observ’d, taking some Blood out of my own hand, that it consists of small round globuls driven through a Crystalline humidity or water.

It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman’s food It ennobled our hearts and enriched our blood– Our soldiers were brave and our courtiers were good. Oh! the roast beef of England. And Old England’s roast beef.

Blood is the god of war’s rich livery.

Masks beneath masks until suddenly the bare bloodless skull.

Tear me open and I will bleed in your name. My heart aches from your absence, but in the aching and breaking is where my art is born.

Tear me apart cut open my flesh, until I bleed out just like the rest of the mess.