my hands tremble at the thought of you, always itching to write you, to write of you, to write for you; endlessly, yet never reaching you.

"my darling i feel love in your bones"

golden boy how does it feel to burn out in a single breath soaring on a thought that second-hand wings would save you oh, lionhearted boy didn't you know that the ocean weeps for tragedies before it swallows them whole

I could not wait for another minute now, to be inhabited by your ways, your happy feet is dancing again, how graceful and ephemeral, for this is the heart of the house, a place where our life is a secret, until it is no longer a secret, and to carry on just with you, alone together with you, to daydream in this cozy boudoir.

I was so sure that he would hurt me, I practically asked him to do it.

Fear