let me blossom like flowers in your lungs

early summer mornings

for you

you are my revolution

no ophelia was she

revolution suits you well

for you

i swear i saw you in my sleep

infatuation

you were always more of a sal paradise anyway

There is the wind through his hair, through yours; there is pain and terror and too many liquor store stops where he presses bottles into your shaking hands, says, "Drink," like it will fix everything — fix your heart and your head and your broken bloody soul.

fire escapes and renegades / a love story told out of order

old summer haunts dusted with wood and steeped in sunlight

this place is for washed up lovers

we are all so selfish. we are all so desperate.

the smoke it sank into my skin.

you are nothing

she stands by the porch window.

promise.

noun, a very strong or irresistible impulse to travel.

hope is the thing with feathers

just drive

build it up and break it down, darling - a collection.

I'm not yet done painting you as something glorious.

-like you never have before, honey.

I am alive, alive, alive, burning against the skyline. I am invincible, infinite, and it is wonderful.

just for tonight, at least.

.

You turn the last page and you whisper, 'Welcome to the end of the world.' Apocalypse.

allow me to state the obvious.

her stereo still plays at 2am.

11:11s; shooting stars.

we did not care.

She has feral eyes.

the city sky bleeds stars.