Awwh yeah, beautiful girls.

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I never understood the idiom can’t hold a candle to until I knew no one could burn quite like you when your voice hits my skin. I feel every syllable you speak, and some nights they’re the lullabies that sing me to sleep, sweetly.

Sometimes I lie awake with an aching for the symphonies you leave unsung, and I dream with open eyes of what I might find between the lines, like maybe you could be mine. But maybe my mind is making me believe in what exists just behind the fluttering of my eyelids.

And I worry that you will melt, and be reduced to residue on the table where my cards lay scattered because I don’t know how to arrange them so our hands meet the way our eyes do. Mine always seem to find you, like a moth to the brightest light in the room. I don’t think you know what you do.

You set fire to these weary bones, and they have never felt more like home.

— 1 year ago with 14 notes


We were always hit and miss, but I don’t know how the latter became dominant, or how our arguments flipped from “I love you more” to “I care less.”

All I know is I’ve tried so hard to be something you’d miss.

Hopelessly hoping my absence would have you aching for my presence in the same way I’ve always longed for the friction and perfect fit of your lips.

Nobody told me desire could be so dangerous.

I was never warned that passion could swallow you whole or set you off like a match until only ash is left.

You’ve scorched and scattered me, like soot beneath your feet, embers that shall never again be seen.

You moved away with casual ease, like I didn’t mean anything.

I wish I could leave, say the same — that I won’t miss you at all.

You may have said it was altruism that drew you to me, but we both know you could call that bluff.

I am selfish enough to hold you forever.

— 1 year ago with 24 notes