How many of us were taught
That love is like a bruise?
Too tender to touch,
No use trying to pursue.
And love is never shameful
Until someone disapproves,
A silly notion of who to be
And whom to be with you.
But maybe love is like a promise,
A tornado of moments you can't undo.
And maybe let's just be honest,
Love is the ruined canvas -
Our souls to splinter and paste onto.
n.w - auto-destructive love












