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 Hollow thieves and an empty home. {poem: petrarchan sonnet, iambic pentameter}
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 he'll hold me, tight, right and warm, whispering sweet lies like we're going to be okay, darling
*a precursor of sorts to residue

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 Behind Amodár Cathedral lie the Glassland graveyards, and you looked.
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 How do you wish you could be remembered?
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baby, we're living china dolls
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 our first love letter (i want to jump your bones)Read more... )
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 He is fire and chaos and everything I want.
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Flowers

Feb. 10th, 2014 05:35 am
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 It's a sad little story about a boy, his gun, and the girl with crumpled flowers in her hair.
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