#flowermorley

you think love is  the answer to your problems, but i see that you have not yet met heartbreak.

We'd give anything to be a star, to be immortalized, to be remembered. But the funny thing is, the stars would give anything to be us, because we are too foolish to realize that our mortality is a gift.

'we are children of the stars,' she said with a wry grin that stole his breath with the way it cut into her face. 'we have never been able to resist a promise of the heavens.'

this is where he goes down in a blaze of glory with the shattering of the stars as a backdrop for the sound of death - mortal men charging headfirst into a war for which there is no victor. he laughs, invincible, because the red he sees splattered on the trees just almost matches the shade on his hands that is reminds him of what he’s done every waking moment of the day - it never really washed off - and offhandedly wonders who gave him the right to play god. he shakes as he glances at the blooming red in his chest, desperately wishing he had taken some more down with him, wishing for some more time on earth, but he knows, oh how he knows, that his old friend death is coming for him today. and when the devil finally swallows his soul, he realizes that he was foolish to believe that he’d be remembered - he is only one of the hundreds of casualties on a battlefield, something the world is quick to forget, the memory a sour taste in its mouth, and now? now he is just another name in the history books. there is only one who weeps for what he has been reduced to: a mangled body that once glowed with life, that once ruled with a stolen crown, an arrogant boy who wished to be remembered as a man. but even she is forced to forget, and he becomes a painful reminder, a distant memory - eventually, he becomes nothing at all, just a whisper shadowed by doubts. the world keeps turning.

i’m sorry, he gasps. i'm sorry for not knowing that you held all that darkness in your thin, thin skeleton, for grasping at ribbons that kept sliding through your bony fingers, for not noticing the blades slipping in between your ribs. i'm sorry for not doing anything about it. i want to tell him it's alright, but it’s hard to lie to people who are so wrecked by the truth that they’ll swallow up any words of forgiveness to ease their parched souls.

i’ll crack ice between my teeth and sometimes the bones that lie underneath my skin will say, hey, i make those sounds too, when the days are long and the nights even longer and when all i want to do is fade.

we bear the cross of being human in the way we set fires to the trees and hear the choking of the wild and see the blood of creatures who roamed this earth years before us stain the ground crimson -- we are human because we choose to live ignorantly in bliss while the green in this paradise fades to black.

he screamed at the stars and wondered why people lied to the ones they loved - his little sister quietly said that it was because they cannot bear the thought of being alone.