kalendules

They write of he with broken hearts, but not of he who dealt the scars.

he who is loved, he who is cherished. he who lives to know he's made a man perish.

To feel his devotion turn blue, as he feels nothing for the man who sees it all through.

Fly away, little butterfly. This flower's got no nectar for you. Up in the sky, where better fields lie, may you mend the heart i've split into two.

hurt me once again as time unravels it all.

I’ve played this game one too many times,

I’ve longed to hear the wedding bell chimes.

spores from before sprout once more in my head,

and it’s honestly a miracle how my heart isn’t dead,

from how much it bled,

from cracks that still spread,

anyways heres a picture of an apple I ate with a spoon

*a video of a shirtless man*

BERRIES