He held you captive and managed to fall in love with you in the process.
Mother didn’t care for the oddness of Alice; she wasn’t a parent who was predisposed to liking her children. She didn’t find their quirks endearing.
And then he’s up up and away and I’m counting on one hand the number of men I’ve killed and marveling at how little it’s done to help me hold it together in Warner’s presence.
The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.
My tears fall backward, burning as they singe their way down my throat.
I want her clothes off and the lights on and I want to study her. I want to unzip her out of this dress and take my time with every inch of her. I can’t help my need to just stare; to know her and her features: the slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, the line of her jaw. I want to run my fingertips across the soft skin of her neck and trace it all the way down. I want to feel the weight of her pressed against me, wrapped around me.
But I wanted so much more than her body.
I’d moved enough times now to know that time was a fleeting, exhaustible thing. I didn’t want to waste it.
I want you to make a list of all of your favorite things, and I want to be on it.
It’s raining. The world is weeping at our feet in anticipation of what we’re about to do.
I spent my life folded between the pages of books. In the absence of human relationships i formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association.
First! Does this need to be said? Second! Does this need to be said by me? And third! Does this need to be said by me right now?
The darkness is choking me.
Everything seems to be catching up with me at once. My failures. My cowardice. My stupidity. Sometimes I’m just so tired of this life.
I need to break down these self-made walls.
I don’t know how to hate you anymore. Even though I want to and I know I should but I just can’t.” – Juliette.
Kill because they’re bad, and we’re good. Kill because we tell you to. Because some people are so stupid that they actually think there are thick neon lines separating good and evil.
My heart is a field of lilies blooming under a pane of glass, pitter-pattering to life like a rush of raindrops.
My thoughts, I think, will soon be sound. My mind, I hope, will soon be found.
His perfect face. His perfect body. His eyes as hard and beautiful as frozen gemstones. He repulses me. I want his exterior to match his broken black interior. I want to cripple his cockiness with the palm of my hand.