and what used to be went up in flames.
peace has been broken.
if being “real” is being cruel, then I’d rather not be real.
it’s all a game of chess. but with cigarettes and glass bottles and the goal is to light the palace on fire.
my hands are cold in the light of the setting sun.
dark chocolate cake.
With you, I can ignore their whispers.
perhaps, perhaps… true love never existed.
it used to be us. now, it’s just me.
they are unwanted. so they are spurned.