#bulletcore

its three am and im thinking about you in every way imaginable (except the bad ones) and everything reminds me of the boy i knew the boy i know with his soft skin, soft eyes, soft lips

in everything i see him in a room full of purity and truth with eyes dark around their rim and shaking hands wrapped around coffee cups

in the shade of a palm tree in warmth and safety in the finality of knowing we are free in everything right about this world

they said that storms were angry and destructive that i had to pick between two options luck, or love? and i pegged them as traitors and liars

i feel so fucking guilty that you had to leave me behind that i let my mind control me that i worked as a zombie that i scared you

god, i wish i picked up on something sooner i really thought you were dead but really you were just so afraid of me that you thought making it seem that way was a viable option

i will regret this; make no mistake i do regret this i know i hurt you i couldnt pick up and try

i messed up while i was scared myself and i regret it you were there for me! you saved my life!

and i repayed you with nothing i gave you dirt and you realised it and you got out

i followed you to try to figure out what i did wrong but i did more harm and inflicted terror on you

you just ran but i promise - i have finally burnt the bridges i built and i have finally locked the gateways and the keys are in the ocean trenches

i will not catch up with you the clouds shall move across the sky and i have watched them go tomorrow is a new day

storms come as suddenly as they go and i have discovered this in a boy like the storms

he was not angry he was not destructive but rather; i was and i caused a great havoc

i let myself wear him down i let myself destroy him via neglect via fear

i hope time mends your wounds and i hope in time you find everything everything you lost; everything you need and i hope you love who you are

oh, my dear friend i will sleep in a world you once knew and if you wish to wake me you know how to find where i rest

but for now and more than likely always thank you et au revoir

he's rubble, you are aware. he's damaged and cracked and fucked up beyond repair. but oh, do you find god in him. and like god - or whatever is up there, there's no good reason for believing in him but you’ll do it anyway.

you find god in his tired blue eyes that look like the sky he made fall. you find god in his hair as dark as soot. you find god in his teasing, knowing smirk. you find god in his coat that's like a bomb but more pleasant, smelling like cigarettes and vanilla and safety. you find god in his own little bubble of delusion, in the wind whipping around you on a peaceful summer day. you find god in his own slow self-destruction.