our love comes home to roost
When you were 20 this was how you did your love — fire on all pistons until it is burnt and smoking. If somebody tells you it is not well, remind them that nothing is ever well. Cry on nights when it is too heavy. When the crying does not come, stab your throat until you feel air again. When you lie there dying and you feel yourself flood with air, remind yourself that love killed you first.