I don’t think I could ever love softly. I want to love all corners and edges, knives and daggers, broken nails bitten down till they bleed. I want to love like Troy blazing, like Rome collapsing, like kings cast down from their thrones; the only way I know to spell love is like this:
W A R N I N G.
I love with trembling arms, scratchy eyes, chipped teeth - fire, fire, fire. I ache to chaff myself into fire and blaze so brightly you can see again - I do not want to love any other way. I’m sorry if that’s too much to handle; fire does, after all,
need another fire to run itself out.
aesthetic for rachel berry











