֯ ⁎ 𓉸ྀི

le grand amour ne suffit pas. ╱ true love is not enough.

it’s so beautiful. i can’t wait to ruin it.

in a dream, i saw my mother with the love of her life and no children … it was the happiest i’d ever seen her.

we are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood.

kiss me, and you will see how important i am.

love is a beautiful, indecent form of torturous dreaming.

why didn’t you make me good enough? so that you could have loved me?

let us dance, for we shall both be meeting our makers soon.

we are born of the blood, made men by the blood, undone by the blood.

the universe is littered with the corpses of your failures.

i loved you to the point of ruin. i loved you until my lungs were filled with ash.

i am someone who did not die when i should have died.

you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.

do not go far from me. ╱ i won’t, i swear.

home is the first grave.

let me die first or i will die twice.

i’ll tell you why i spit on your forgiveness, i’ll tell you why i loathe your redemption. to reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be beneath you— and i am beneath nobody.

despite everything, it’s still you.

you are naught more than a girl that has known tragedy and mistreatment, forced to live with a rage too big to fit in your chest.

most of what’s bad in the world is because of stupid old men.