loss of history

and what used to be went up in flames.

Dove

peace has been broken.

real

if being “real” is being cruel, then I’d rather not be real.

Trickster

it’s all a game of chess. but with cigarettes and glass bottles and the goal is to light the palace on fire.

cold hands

my hands are cold in the light of the setting sun.

cake

dark chocolate cake.

With You

With you, I can ignore their whispers.

merchandise

perhaps, perhaps… true love never existed.

dear

it used to be us. now, it’s just me.

unwanted

they are unwanted. so they are spurned.