“I have spent the past year learning how to swallow pieces of my heart, and training it to beat again. It doesn’t recognize the cage of my ribs, instead there’s still nights that I hear it longing for the war zone you left it in. I’ve learned by now that the wildfires weren’t romantic, but that doesn’t mean it still won’t bleed for something that beautiful. I saw the whole sky turn gold and I thought it was just for us. That was a mistake and now I can’t look at smoke the same way again. (See also: cherries / strawberries / the color pink / spring / birds / bad horoscopes / the ocean / California) What I can still write about is ghosts. And how they say more than you ever did. Maybe that sounds like the start of another love story gone wrong, but it’s ours, and you know I have claws where my hands should be. I know we turned this whole thing into a nightmare when we both had such big dreams. There comes a time when apologies don’t cut it anymore, neither do excuses. All you’re left with is the truth: When my heart finally showed back up, I barely recognized it. It was peeled over and I’m willing to bet you’ve still got shreds of it under your fingernails.”
— DEFINE: “A GOOD RUN”, angelea l. (via wildfairy)
