Poetic enthusiast & some-what of a feminist. The best things to read usually aren’t what make us happiest.
From the mind of the devil/ in which he was formed/ so wickedly/ to walk among the earth
Leaves catch fire/ the ground burns/ as he who’s damp anatomy/ trudges among the earth
For as long as I can remember, every Christmas has been the exact same. I spend Christmas Eve with my father, I leave after presents are opened at midnight, I then head to my mother’s to sleep over and open more presents in the morning, and…
I look into the eyes of a former lover. A lover who I lye in bed with, but do not appreciate. A lover who I kiss, but do not cherish.