It’s such a tragic suffer…
To be engulfed in such a way that my mind cannot handle.
A foreign feeling, yet a familiar yearning— I am boundlessly designed for this.
I don’t want a love that lasts a lifetime. I want a lifetime that burns with love.
Be my fire.
I would swim to the ends of the world just to feel this way—I would risk the tides, the deadly currents and the poison to be perfectly extinguished.
Every day is a dream that I wake up from even when I’m already awake. Good-bye is less harrowing than surviving in your space— as I crawl out of a burning house, holding my breath.
I sacrifice my sanity upon my instinct— I dance with the devil.
You’re the fire I walk through until I become ash.
Your Hell is the reflection of the ripened flesh that protects my ravenous heart behind a polished cage of bones— prison.
But know that I am the fire.
Everything that I live to touch eventually becomes embers of decay.
So ask yourself if you are willing to burn—I am not someone who is easy to love.
The moment you take my hand, I will have no choice but to scorch everything that defines you.
Let’s suffer tragically together—
Ps: There were never butterflies, just fire.