Laying my head on her shoulder,
smelling the fire in her hair -
her eyes blackened with the
ashes of our memories -
burn victim, thrown into the
purgatory of my love.
There's something about the way her insides lay out on the table that keeps me going. It's like her blood represents the thickness of our love. Saddened by the act - but I know we need it. Something about this destructiveness that keeps it real - keeps her vulnerable, keeps her into me. I could never give her all of me, could never let her know she has me - so I keep breaking her down, then building her up, fucking her roughly, shutting her up.
....Nice never got enough attention as a kid.
Those walls were there before me, I'm just trying to break in, show this girl I love her and not let her die within her skin.