tell me the storyabout how the sunloved the moon so muchhe died every nightto let her breathe
please tell me which part of yourself you hate the most so I know exactly where to plant my lips every time I see you
you never reallyknow someoneuntil you’ve readwhat they writeat 3 am whenlonelinessconsumes thembut does not destroy them
I am attracted to the idea of your lips exploring my body as if it were a map and you kept getting lost on purpose.
Listen to me, you can’t fix people.Your love won’t make him stop hating his fatherand your devotion won’t cure her of her childhood.All you can do is be there, violets sprouting outfrom your ribs, acceptance on your lips, your ownwounds still bleeding and all you can do is be there...
A haiku about buying college textbooks.
What the fuck textbooks You’re made of paper and ink Not fucking diamonds.