YOU WERE MADE FOR THIS.

lunafreya nox fleuret of ffxv by bard

[faithened-blog]

      “ SABINE. ” she pulls from their lips a moment to speak their name in the only way she’s ever been able to.  (  a prayer, a word of thanks to whatever god allowed them to have this moment  )  lunafreya’s hands cup their cheeks. a kiss to each eyelid and her throat becomes so full she cannot manage to speak for a moment as she draws back. the fire casts copper and red across their skin, the dark night held impossibly far from where they sit. safe. and sabine in the tender glow, with their mouth still fresh with kisses, brings smile unexpected to oracle’s lips. “ i love you. ” a prayer. “ i love you. ” a promise. / @phoenixial 

[faithened-blog]

the tru bard aesthetic is rb’ing the same meme across all my blogs bc i don’t fear god or the devil

[lizzyisameme]

literary sexts vol. 1 poetry meme

Literary Sexts is a modern day anthology of short love poems with subtle erotic undertones edited by Amanda Oaks & Caitlyn Siehl. Hovering around 50 contributors & 124 poems, this book reads is like one long & very intense conversation between two lovers. It’s absolutely breathtaking. These are poems that you would text to your lover. Poems that you would slip into a back pocket, suitcase, wallet or purse on the sly. Poems that you would write on slips of paper & stick under your crush’s windshield wiper. Poems that you would write on a Post-it note & leave on the bathroom mirror. Treat yourself, a crush or a lover with this lush gift!

source and amazon buy link.  

I will be providing select short, sometimes edited, poems for a texting/”sexting” meme, but not the whole book itself.  If you enjoy the poems provided, please support the collection whether it’s the first volume or the second.   Or look into the works of the various contributors and see if anything else they’ve written is to your liking!  

Feel free to add to and/or edit these sentences to better suit your needs—but remember, many of these work best in the context of texts and/or love notes instead of spoken dialogue.    —Lizzy.  

Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again.

My skin is full of flowerbeds and you know every way to make them bloom.

I am tracing the knobs of your spine like the map of my favorite continent. You are all the places I haven’t visited yet and I mark each one off with my teeth.

Your hands unzip me one breath at a time; there is not room beneath my skin for all of you and I spill over the edges with a sigh.

You take apart my heart in pieces with your mouth, but the splash of your tongue against mine feeds it back to me. It tastes sweeter coming from you.

You opened your mouth and spoke the language in my blood.

You kiss me and there aren’t sparks. There’s an entire orchestra in my chest, playing staccato on my heart strings.

My hands are nomads, my dear desert. May they never find rest.

Being small things, we understand this as our humble attempt at thunder, at setting the world to shake.

Delicate work. Like peeling kiwis. My tongue across your skin. Mellow flesh against my lips. Your taste always in my mouth.

How a storms needs to feel the earth how the earth wakes to the pelt of rain how the ground is quenched is how I need you… 

My hands were glaciers I never dared to move freely, my fingers icicles. Your touch thawed me to excavation. I want to dig into your warmth.

Kiss me like white bread, stick to my teeth even after the whiskey. I want memories of your mouth lodged beneath my tongue to wake me at two in the morning, hungry.

I want you next to me, in my bed, your clothes making friends with my floor. Love me hard enough so we wake up the neighbors.

Your hands peeling that onion, thumbs and forefingers pulling skin from skin—they are sacred. Let me kiss them. Let them bless my sinning chest, let them peel my lips apart.

I don’t want to be your harmonies anymore; I want to be the melody you scream when your heart is starving for love. I want to satisfy your hunger.

Show me the parts of you that nobody else ever wanted to sleep with. Show me it all with the lights on.

You, darling, are Vesuvius. I won’t see you coming. Erupt. Wreck me. Leave me ashes leave me Pompeii, leave me outlined into your history forever.

It’s not so much that I want to kiss you. I want to relearn vocabulary words from the shape of your mouth. All my poems are yours first.

Kiss me blossoms in the summer, lover. I want to taste the succulent sweet of your peach tree smile. This time let Adam take the fruit from the garden.

Surge into me as a downpour, as the pounding waterfall which makes swollen rivers flood, as the sea.

The happy ending to this night: you tug my hair and lightly brush your hand across my lap. Don’t forget how resilient I am and how I would bend for you.

Even my lungs are in love as we breathe together.

I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.

The gentle friction of your hand on my thigh is enough to strike a match inside me. I lean into your lips and the fire blooms and spreads.

You are an undiscovered continent. I trail my fingers down your mountainsides. Ten explorers digging for buried treasure, I want to take it all.

My body is a gospel and you are my first quivering hallelujah. Your breath leaves your mouth like a prayer and washes over me like faith.

My hands are hungry for your flesh, desperate in the way that rivers empty themselves over waterfalls.

I peel back your skin to see if we have the same scars. I follow the map of your veins back to your heart and press my palm against yours to tangle our lifelines.

I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink.

We commit sins in holy places, fold ourselves between pews like dirty pictures tucked into a bible. Pant each other’s names until they sound like scripture.

My tongue collides with your collarbone like a meteor careening across the cosmos, and I taste the stars you are made of.

You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.

You, benevolent god, legs splayed like instruments of creation. I, blank slate of the universe, kneel in wait for you to fill me with your hot, honeyed light.

My hands are suntanned tourists without a map whose desire compels them onward to explore your golden cities by the light of the stars.

The moment between your thighs where I become a devout follower of your existence. That hour which passes in slow seconds of soft skin, as I lay my head against you, drifting, drowsy with love.

Your grin is a flash of primal fire in the dark. Somewhere deep inside me, something hungry wakens and shifts, uncurls its insatiable tongue.

I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.

You till the soil of my need, my lips a blood-red flower bursting open with the first wet flush of your heat.

When it comes right down to it, all that nonsense about hearts syncing up feels like a hallelujah with our bodies pressed together like praying hands.

Every time, you peel back my skin, pry open my ribs, and feast on my insides. Every time, you make a meal of my heart, and every time, I let you.

You’re not one for poetry or sentimentality, so I’ll just say that I’ve dreamt of being the motor oil trapped in the grooves of your weathered hands.

I ache for your hum between my legs, the purring of motorcycles on winding highways: wind in my hair, and romance in losing myself to the sweet, revving vibration of the engine again and again.

You smile and it’s like sunrise. Something inside me Wakes up, stretching.

I float away in cool sheets against my burning skin, and you are the sea guiding me beyond the realm of earthly things.

My lipstick spills over your mouth and trickles down to your chin, your neck, pooling into your collarbones. We love like crushed grapes in wine country.

You’re kissing a wildfire up my thigh and I am tracing the landscape of your jawbone like a sculptor. My hands were made for this.

The rush you give me: The way a blade of grass must feel when splashed with a cloud’s cry after days of screaming for rain.

We are the fall of Rome, all fire and fighting. We collapse into each other like the pieces of the Parthenon, kissing like gladiators, loving like rebuilding.

You creep into my head like a river rushing for the sea & a cosmic digit of fingertips flash over me.

You are pressing against me like I press flowers against the pages in my book. You are kissing my neck and it feels like the start of forever. I want to touch you until my palms burn.

The wet of your mouth rains down my neck like frame, the soft heat of your tongue burns the apple in my throat. We are practiced at this love that asks angels to cover their eyes and turns devils shy.

I melt into the gentleness of your fingertips. Your tongue presses me open like the summer fresh flesh of a perfectly ripe fig, all juice, seeds and pulp.

The small of your back is refuge, is veldt, is summer heat. And I am predatory snarl.

I can’t brush out the taste of you; coffee breath, cigarette smoke, and all. Mouth to mouth; Our shared vices linger on each other. Your salt still lives in my tongue.

I’ll take you quiet as the bones in your closet, love as softly as a whisper. Holding your tongue like a secret.

You smiled and lit up like the dusk. I sank to your lips like the sun against the horizon. We made the day stand still.

I want to kiss you until you melt into me, ice turning to water. I want to drink you deep, and warm you from the inside.

[faithened-blog]

ON LUNAFREYA AND MULTILINGUALISM don’t reblog!

       although we see her speaking the english-equivalent in both kg and the game, that isn’t her native language. she was raised to speak it alongside tenebraean so her accent is most similar to that of her mother, not any teacher she may have had. also, contrary to her voice in canon she speaks with more of a french accent. 

      she’s very adept at code-switching but most often does it when speaking to others from tenebrae, such as ravus and seldom can be heard doing it in public speeches. for her, switching back to her first language is a sign of comfort with an individual more than anything else as she attaches language to specific times in her life. tenebraean reminds her of her youth, and switching between that and the languages spoken elsewhere is a sign of trust and camaraderie she chooses to invoke at certain times.  

      she’s also known to switch languages when tired, or her voice becomes more accented.

[faithened-blog]

What does all this love amount to?

✧ WAR OF THE FOXES.

      “ THIS. ” soft mouth places a kiss to the center of sabine’s palms. marvels at the lines and callouses. the lifetime spelled out beneath oracle’s mouth, and how blessed she’s been to be able to touch it.

      “ AND THIS. ” lips continue to their shoulders. to all the weight they never meant to carry. to the spot where lunafreya cried out her future and apologized, time and again, for loving them so fiercely she finally felt scared to die. leaving them behind in the wake of her --- whenever that day would come.  (  what does all this love amount to? perhaps my final joy.  )

      “ AND THIS. ” her lips meet sabine’s. altissia is coming. she feels the weakness in her bones in moments like this the most. when all she has to hold is them, when all she has left she must say goodbye to. it isn’t a kiss goodbye, not yet anyway. but she memorizes the shape of their mouth all the same. wraps them in her arms, hoping it would be enough to hold them together even when the rain came.

[faithened-blog]

Will you defend yourself? From me, I mean.

✧WAR OF THE FOXES.

      HIS VOICE IS the only thing in the darkness between them. fear so full her throat may close from it, lunafreya’s fingers trace the bones of his cheek, the curve of his jaw. tries to remember a time when his skin was smooth and eyes still bright with the possibilities laid out before them.  (  in the dark — she sees him on their wedding day. the tears in his eyes and the smile neither of them could hide  )

      WILL YOU DEFEND YOURSELF? if there was one thing she learned not long after she learned how to walk, how to run, it was how to pull up a curtain around her heart. but never before with him. with him it had been left on display, wet and beating.  (  you are still the only person i trust with it’s care once i am gone  )  

      “ NO. ” it’s less a lie and more something spoken by a girl who’s sick of the truth. she moves closer to noctis. rests her head against his chest and hopes the heart there will always sound the same. “ i’ve never needed to before. and there’s nothing you could ever do to harm me. ”

[faithened-blog]

am sleepy but 1) wren dies tomorrow 2) sb remind me about luna's accent and the fact that she's bilingual tomorrow too

[faithened-blog]

i love wren but i also love the fear i can give them w just a >:3C

[tombstcne-blog]

RICHARD SIKEN / WAR OF THE FOXES Change pronouns as necessary and tweak sentences as appropriate!

I am faithful to you, darling.

When you bang on the wall you have to remember you’re on both sides of it but go ahead, yell at yourself.

Some people don’t understand anything.

He’s easy to desire since there’s not much to him.

No one wants to know what’s in his head.

To make something beautiful should be enough. It isn’t. It should be.

You’d break your heart to make it bigger.

Will you defend yourself? From me, I mean.

Let’s kill something.

I prefer to blame others, it’s easier.

All these ghosts come streaming down and I wish I had something else.

We all move forward anyway. Ripples in all directions.

What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive. Something dead that doesn’t know it’s dead.

All thoughts finish themselves eventually.

Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory?

When you have nothing to say, set something on fire.

I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way.

Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it.

The enormity of my desire disgusts me.

Look away but I’m still there.

Want something to chase you? Run.

Take only what you need.

Never finish a war without starting another.

I’ve seen your true face: the back of your head. If you were walking away, keep walking.

The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does.

All these things and what to do with them. We carve up the world all the time.

I like dead things. They cannot hurt me.

We like things related to our survival: soup, arrows - they expand the range of the species.

My body is a graveyard.

People like to think war means something.

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other. We know who our enemies are. We know.

There are many loves but only one war.

You will need to comfort him, or we will never be finished with this.

You cannot have an opponent if you keep saying yes.

Its roots in the ground and its branches in the air, a tree is pulled in two directions.

The boy is a bird, bad bird. He falls out of trees.

You cannot get in the way of anyone’s path to God. You can, but it does no good.

Some say God is where we put our sorrow.

In the wrong light anyone can look like a darkness.

What can you know about a person?

Difficult thing, to be scrutinized so long.

Even when I look away I am still looking.

Everyone secretly wants to collaborate with the enemy, to construct a truer version of the self.

How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder?

Why build a room you can live in? Why build a shed for your fears?

There wasn’t much left but it felt like him, wild and scared.

The best part of spirituality is reverence. There are other parts. Some people like to hear the sound of their own voice.

If you don’t believe in God, then who are you talking to?

But truth doesn’t count in law, only proof.

Was I discovered or invented? Feels like I’ve always been here.

Measure yourself against the truth and not the other way around.

Perfect and completely dead.

People don’t learn anything unless they are afraid of being left behind.

Logic is boring because it works. Being unreasonable is exciting.

I am your arrival, there is no refusal, we are here, you see, together, we are already here.

This is also part of the story: how the story changes. This is something I forgot to tell you.

You might like it here. I think that you might like it here.

I tell you these things because I love you.

It’s nothing like I thought it would be and closer to what I meant.

Maybe we will wake up to the silence of shoes at the foot of the bed not going anywhere.

It reminds me of where I was going without you.

You know what it’s like to be alone: gimlets and vermicide. You know what it’s like to be alive, so forgiveness.

You asked me once, What are we made of? Well, these are the things we’re made of.

I turned my ears in all directions. I’ll live alone or in between.

Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.

Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything.

I live in big spaces, so I’m left alone in big spaces.

We made ourselves cold. We made ourselves snow. We smuggled ourselves into ourselves. Haunted by each other’s knowledge.

To hide somewhere is not surrender, it is trickery.

I try to guess your trajectory and end up telling my own story.

I surrender my desire to be healed.

Take it or leave it, and for the most part you take it.

Shame comes from vanity. Shame means you’re guilty, like the rest of us, but you think you’re better than we are. Maybe you are.

There is no new me, there is no old me, there’s just me, the same me, the whole time.

Don’t try to make a stronger wind, you’ll wear yourself out. Build a better sail.

You want to solve something? Get out of your own way.

What’s the difference between me and the world? Compartmentalisation.

I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love.

I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary.

I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work.

I mean, maybe it’s better if my opponent wins.

What happens when I no longer want to meet you?

Nothing lasts forever: we know this.

Longing and suffering? Of course, of course. You want it to mean something.

You can disconnect it or you can try to glue it all together.

We could pull it apart, spend our whole lives pulling it apart and have no time left to do anything smart with the pieces.

The sooner you embrace it, the sooner it will leave you.

You are what you cover up.

Noise and more noise. Noise up to heaven.

One wonders why a story like this exists.

I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

Someone has to leave first.

He was pointing at the moon but I was looking at his hand.

All this was prepared for me. All this was set in motion long ago.

I stayed as long as I could. Now look at the moon.

What does all this love amount to?

[luxrosetum-deactivated20220719]

— ☆ Noct & Luna.

[faithened-blog]

      NOCTIS. MY DEAR NOCTIS. would that be too much? too little? my king. outside clouds roll overhead and in the distance, thunder. weather to call the hydraean in. overcast doesn’t fit the pounding of her heart as oracle rises and begins her way outside. to where ambassador said he’d be waiting.

       KING OF LIGHT. fifteen years or more since she’d said goodbye to him in a burning home. back when prophecy meant a chance to see each other. when destiny was a word too big for either of them to believe in yet.  (  if destiny was anything it was this --- the chance to see his face one last time  )

       MY NOCTIS. lunafreya takes each step slow. heels click in a measured beat. a clock counting down instead of away to a far flung future. a future with neither of them in it. my friend. her body aches more now. each bond formed a tether keeping her from him. my love. he still hasn’t changed his hair if the first thing she notices. the second, that she’s forgotten everything leading up to the moment when his eyes find hers. years too late.

       “ NOCTIS. ” // @fatened

[titusdravtos]

D E T A I L S

[faithened-blog]

❛ keep me & obey me, for i am your husband, & i can destroy you. ❜ accursed noct :^)

✧ DEATHLESS.

asa child her hands would find the last page in a book and read thelast sentence before any others. praying for good endings, whereprince and princess went into the setting sun and lived happily ever

afterthey learned what had become noctis’ soul she stopped reading, butcould not stop her praying. in the moonlit nights when silver lightwould paint him young and whole again her fingers would trace thehigh bones of his cheeks, the weathered lines around his mouth. she’dfind her own outlining each deity in her desperation. ramuh, shiva,titan, bahamut, leviathan, ifrit. ifrit. with your fire and yourscorched heart, corrupted within the light of the star. have pity onthe same corrupted heart. do not take him from me.

shivawarns her in the voice of the messenger what it means to love someonemeant to live forever. ( ‘theinfernian forgot himself after the first century. the accursed neverknew himself.’lunafreya insists that she’ll be different. )

inthe moonlight she begs the waters that leviathan commands cleanse hisheart. she begs titan for the strength of her home once more. for amountain-spine and stone shoulders to hold him up when he firstbegins to slip. but she forgets to ask for the will of bahamut andthe strength of titan. instead begs them lend their hearts to herbeloved when he first coughs up the sickness.

’you’restill my prince. my king.’she kisses him when the darkness spreads from his throat. ‘mydear noctis.’

’you’restill my love. my husband.’she holds him every night after that, when he forgets himself. ’youare the most important thing to me.’

heneeds the draconian’s heart more than she does and she breaks witheach time he spits venom at her. each time the mark on his soul growsand she feels it beneath her soft palms. o’oracle,what ruins you more? knowing that he will live life eternal asthis? or knowing you will die failing your life’s purpose?

“keepme & obey me.” his voice sounds so much like another man sickwithin the soul with a blade in his hand as she calls leviathan. theonly time goddess heeded her call. she doesn’t read the lastsentence anymore. she doesn’t pray or wait for the happily everafter. she waits for a day when he smiles at her bright as the sunthey called back into being. but she turns her face from his now andbites her tongue when he begs her obey.

“fori am your husband.” in a story book there is this: a prince and aprincess running hand in hand into the sunset. in her heart there isstill a sunset. a prince and a princess.

(andtheir hands? his palms are cold and she’s thinking of the waternow. she’s thinking of when she used to pray for it to clean him. )

“&i can destroy you.” wouldyou kill me then, my love​?it’s night now and she’s so close to him she can count eacheyelash like a falling star. the shadows aren’t a sickness but theshadow of his beard ( he’s grown it out recently and she can’thelp but think of how much he looks like his father ) wouldyou pierce my heart with regis’ sword?

shewon’t mourn a man still breathing, a man with heart still beatingsteady beneath her chest. she won’t mourn a man but she mourns aboy who stumbles over her name. skinned knees and hope, she burieshim with each breath noctis takes.

shecloses her eyes / doesn’t wait for the sunrise.

[resourcesinblue]

DEATHLESS.

the following prompts were taken from the novel deathless by catherynne m. valente, an american novelist & poet. the novel was loosely based on the tale of koschei the deathless, incorporating other elements of russian mythology, & setting it against the backdrop of the russian revolution. feel free to change the pronouns / prompts as you see fit, but be warned – below the cut, it’s quite long !

❛ the service of your body is not yours to give as you please. ❜

❛ you probably won’t survive. ❜

❛ go. run. don’t look behind you. ❜

❛ i have come for the girl in the window. ❜

❛ i will never be without information. ❜

❛ i will see him with his skin off before i fall in love. ❜

❛ if the world is divided into seeing & not seeing, i will always choose to see. ❜

❛ secrets are jealous things, permitting no fraternization. ❜

❛ no, it’s not like that, when magic comes. ❜

❛ magic does that. it wastes you away. once it grips you by the ear, the world gets quieter & quieter until you can hardly hear it at all. ❜

❛ the sight of it bruised my heart so that i cannot think about anything else. ❜

❛ i’ll be so quiet, i’ll never talk again. ❜

❛ keep me & obey me, for i am your husband, & i can destroy you. ❜

❛ i shall be clever, & i shall not let him go. ❜

❛ it is a new world, & we do not wish to be left behind. ❜

Keep reading

[faithened-blog]

❝ your absence is a missing limb. ❞

✧ THE SUN AND HER FLOWERS. 

     it’s been a long time since you’ve felt like anything aside from phantom limb. something lost to a war and never realizing when you’re left cold on the ground.  ( in your defense, you’ve always been too stubborn to let death be anything more than a long pause between one breath and the next. you’re still waiting for the next exhale )  each moment with him is borrowed — precious is the way tears pool in his eyes and you love him for every moment his heart breaks. selfish girl, each moment he hurts, you treasure because it means you’re still held in his heart. do not forget me. please, don’t forget me.

     farewell, dear noctis. but every time you’ve said goodbye you’ve held out your hand because you’re afraid of letting go, too. you’re afraid of the moment after the goodbye and the silence that follows  ( like an inhale with no breathing out and the space between each rib )

     "i’m sorry, noctis.“ if sorrow was something that could mend all the holes in a broken heart, you’d make sure he was in no pain.  ( ‘it isn’t fair.’ inside you is the girl left standing in a forest on fire. the girl that made peace with the burning before she knew what it could consume. in this moment with his tears, you hate that girl. her and her noble heart. )  "would that i could come back, i would. as it is, all i can do is this.”

     you reach out like a goodbye, like a hand missing the wrist and the pulse there. you’re gone before you remember what his skin feels like.

[faithened-blog]

❝ i attempted to cry you back. ❞

✧THE SUN AND HER FLOWERS.

her thumb brushes across curve of his cheek where tears still rest. it worked. is what she would say if she were a liar, or a woman that didn’t care about his heart. but in her eye she sees the shimmer of her spectral form. the gift of the same gods which watched as beloved oracle laid her life down time and again. the same glow of dawn, cresting over waves.  ( you were never so changing as the sea, rather your spine was carved from the mountains you called home )  it’s an impermanence she knows will signal time that is never enough. time borrowed, time taken.

but solid enough her palm rests against noctis’ cheek. it worked. is what she would say were she alive again. but there’s no heavy beating in her chest where her heart should be. no heat singing in her blood like when she stared down titan / matched wits with ramuh / confronted leviathan. i’ve not returned, dear noctis. i am still far from you. 

“ do you remember what i told you? ” she can’t cry. values the moisture on his cheeks all the more for it.  ( you cried the first time they told you that you would die. you cried harder when they said he would too. )  there’s none of that doubt written on serene face now. no hesitation in the gentle kiss she lays upon his forehead. “ it’s the oracle’s job to assist the chosen king. and my choice to help my friend, noctis. ”

( you are not a liar, but you’ve always been full of a hope that refuses to listen to reason )  her form shimmers again. dawn light, fickle waves. she wills it be still, be still. we’ve work yet to be done. “ i will be here. so long as you need me. ”

[mandaloermandaloer]

the sun and her flowers  —  wilting.

these sentences were plucked from rupi kaur’s second poetry collection, the sun and her flowers. this sentence meme is part one of five, and includes lines from the first chapter of the sun and her flowers  ———  wilting.

❝  i have no use for you. ❞

❝  no one is coming in, and no one is going out. ❞

❝  you left. ❞

❝  i deserved someone who was willing to stay. ❞ 

❝  i attempted to cry you back. ❞ 

❝  you must be on your way. ❞

❝  i am okay. ❞

❝  no, i am angry. ❞

❝  i can’t move on. ❞

❝  it isn’t what we left behind that breaks me. it’s what we could’ve built had we stayed. ❞

❝  do you think flowers will grow here? ❞

❝  i could be anything in the world, but i wanted to be his. ❞

❝  you break women in like shoes. ❞

❝  loving you was breathing. ❞ 

❝  what does love look like? ❞

❝  i thought love looked so much like you. ❞

❝  i lost myself to him. ❞ 

❝  i think love starts here. ❞      

❝  you took the sun with you when you left. ❞

❝  my wound became your wound. ❞

❝  love is a double-edged knife. ❞

❝  your voice alone drives me to tears. ❞

❝  you’re everywhere except right here and it hurts. ❞

❝  your absence is a missing limb. ❞

❝  it must be hard to live with what-ifs. ❞

❝  how did we live through it? ❞ 

❝  how are we still living? ❞   

❝  don’t you lie to me. ❞

❝  are you angry with me? ❞

❝  are you okay? would you tell me if you’re not? ❞

❝  we were good together, weren’t we? ❞