See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.
If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.
Widow. The word consumes itself.
How we need another soul to cling to.
My flesh winced, in cowardice, from such a death.
If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.