Not bombs nor my broken heart can take away from me walking barefoot with you in jasmine June through the Field of Mars.

You are my hand grenade, my artillery fire. You have replaced my heart with yourself.

They had no past. They had no future. They just were.

He sent you to redeem me, to comfort me, and to heal me—and that’s just so far,” he added with a smile.

Some words were like that. Whole lives attached to them. Ghosts and lives and ecstasy and sorrow.

Here I am, your one man circus freak show, having bled out for mother Russia, having desperately tried to get to you, now on top of you with this scourge marks, and you, who used to love me, who was sympathized, internalized, normalized everything, you are not allowed to turn away from me....this is what I am going to look like until the day I die. I can't get any peace from you ever unless you find away to make peace with this. Make peace with me. Or let me go for good.

Everything comes at a price. Everthing in your life. The question you have to ask yourself is, what price are you willing to pay?