I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you've taken something out of me and I have to search my body for scars.

You’re falling now. You’re swimming. This is not           harmless. You are not                     breathing.

...you're waiting because you thought it would follow, you thought there would be some logic, perhaps, something to pull it all together but here we are in the weeds again, here we are in the bowels of the thing: your world doesn't make sense.

You play along, because you want to die for love, you always have.

You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that, and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.

The way you slam your body into mine reminds me I’m alive, but monsters are always hungry, darling.

Fairy tales have rules. You are a princess or you aren’t. You are pure at heart or you aren’t. If you are pure at heart, or lucky, you might catch a break.