zoyalina:
“my beautiful lover, he’s a complicated mess: of hidden muscles and sinews that pull the world’s weight; and a skin so smooth his tears roll off it like pearls over marble; my quiet lover, he’s a self-made mystery: of destroyed family portraits and broken glass, i can hear the crunching sound everytime he clenches his gloved hands my broken lover, he’s a system of failing organs and collapsing worlds: of purple galaxies that look a lot like bruises, his father’s beliefs printed on his back like the rawest, reddest form of education of heirlooms that must be kept in secret and eyes like polished serpentine but my lover walks like a general and thinks like a king; ambition shining in those bright green pools like jewels. and i’ll admit: it only took me an eternity to realize i was in love with a tragedy”
— boys like him are made of wounds and secrets / warner
