I think I can paint this world for you now. From decadence and disorderly life to death and blank slates. Something I own, expressed dearfully to you as if I have always owned it. Perhaps remembered by no one in the end, but for now, maybe even just a glimpse of light from the murk and more, just to prove it can exist. even if it fades within the hour.

Sincerly,
       Rosier.

Dear Death,

Dare yell at death, at the other half of you you've poured into this love. Mistakes that take half your life to make and then take the other half to mourn. 


When your eyes are crying blood and all of your love is thrown through you like a car crash. Will you still smile at me and say that it is okay. I will. 


Love is a decision. you don't find love. you pick what to give it to. you only have so much of it and it eats you up constantly. 


The fucking feeling in my flesh, the pulling, empty burning. I would rather you cut my lips open and have me recite every word I have ever said. 


I know the pain I've caused. And I'm sorry. I know I cannot stop making mistakes or hurting you. So I will hurt you on purpose. Much better for me to cut your wrists for you than for you to die of my mistakes. 


A new endeavor planning to put my love in me and share myself with others instead. Wish me luck Dabria, I'm not sure how many mistakes left I have to make.


More Skyscrapers.