Mon, 03:17: I know you say love can’t save you but I wish you’d let me give it one good shot.
Mon, 03:21: “This is amazing,” you whisper, “you’re fucking gorgeous,” and I believe you because I can feel your honesty inside me. Anyway, we don’t tell lies anymore, not in the house we’re building.
Mon, 03:23: I bet your sheets smell like my hair, Moroccan oil and Halloween perfume. I hope when you slept last night it was with some part of me still clinging to you.
Mon, 03:31: I don't know how to write my own words, anymore. I lost that gift somewhere between your steep staircase that broke my ankle and the smile you gave me the other day.
Mon, 03:33: You were a prince. And I... I was just me, lipstick kissed clean off my face, my hand in yours and the sky was open. I remember what you said to me, all those years ago: "I have no idea where I'm going, but you can ride shotgun." It wasn't a question.
Mon, 03:36: I have loved you since the moment I first saw your wicked face: how will I ever be free from the most beautiful thing I had ever seen? Beauty fades, for some. I am in love with ghosts who never existed.