Roses aren't red,
the detail is.

I always cherish moments in the aftermath, never truly understanding their impact twined with my life experience in that very second. And to me, that is a beautiful realization.

I like my whiskey like I like my men: on the rocks, ready for death as I devour at their first intent.

I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don't quite understand.

To be just. Exactly how we're supposed to be is how I'd like to be.

But could words be
the end of me?

The thing with breaking up is they leave, but the memories stay.

I was shattered glass but you weren't a repairman.

The silences weren't awkward. For me at least. Because I was there in the moment with him.

He wasn't my boyfriend, but he was something. Someone who made a positive impact on my life regardless of the negative. He changed my perspective for the better and made me who I am in this very second. I appreciate, cherish, and thank him for it; and I will for this life and into any life that may come.

I touched him. From brain to body, in ways I couldn't quite understand. But he did and for him, that was all that mattered.

People take moments as if it's their grand finale without the realization they'll have a dozen other moments in their life better than the previous.

Things could always be, but some things will never have been.

We're transcending and I'm pacing for something more than this.

I romanticized him until he was the perfect being. A soul so beautiful, but so immensely evil too.

Silence is only awkward if one cannot feel a connection with the other.

The darkest hours bring the most light.

I've spent awhile trying to figure out where I'm going and the only thing I've come to realize is it doesn't matter where, it's how I get there.

I was the fire to your ice, the only snake eyes you ever rolled with that dice in your mind.

I'd rather be the creep in the night and the fire that burns your eyes than the way you use and define life.