Crashing into the trembling void Stretching my hand to you Losing myself to frigid regret Is this fragile love A way To say Good-bye

This car was a very pretty lie.

His lips tasted cool and sharp, peppermint, winter, but his hands, soft on the back of my neck, promised long days and summer and forever.

Blue. My name's Blue Sargent.' 'Blair?' 'Blue.' 'Blaize?' Blue sighed. 'Jane

There was something awful about terror trapped behind silence.

He danced on the knife’s edge between awareness and sleep. When he dreamt like this, he was a king. The world was his to bend. His to burn.

Death smells like birthday cake.