Her story is not just crimson pomegranates, all of the splendour of spring bends her will. But the floral maiden also sends shudders of fear with one delicate footstep through all of hell.

She reigns over the birth of flowers and gentle beings, raises baby birds in her lap, and with fawns she plays.

She reigns over demons and demise alike and before her fury, even death himself pales.

the secret is not to chase butterflies, but to take care of the garden so they’ll come to you.

you are not required to set yourself on fire to keep others warm

your soul is what makes you attractive

i admire the way you see the good in everyone.

I am bound to you forever. We are matching tattoos and secrets never said out loud. The kind of friendship we only see in script.

can you look at yourself in the mirror in the morning and admit that you are no different from every other bundle of bones on the planet?

divinity will stain your fingers and mouth like a pomegranate. it will swallow you whole and spit you out, wine-dark and and wanting. you will reach for it again and again, greedy human fingers clutching everything you can reach. the divine will curl its way through your veins and take you over, and it will leave you quietly.

she looked like a religious icon, like somebody you’d sacrifice yourself for.

i’m tired of the people who make me feel like i’m missing a piece of myself

if you asked me now who i am, the only answer i could give with any certainty would be my name. for the rest: my loves, my hates, down to even my deepest desires, i can no longer say whether these emotions are my own, or are stolen from those i once so desperately wished to be.

nostalgia is a paradox of irrevocability, a desire for not only the place of one’s past, but for its memories in real time, for their return to populate the present.

last night i dreamt that you were beside me and that everything was perfect and nothing would ever go wrong again but when i woke up sweating i felt something shatter deep inside of me i don’t know what happened last night it was like a nightmare but i loved it

somewhere in all the snow, she could see her broken heart, in two pieces. each half glowing and beating under all that white.

from miles away, as i approached, i could already see the small group of humans standing frigidly amounts the wasteland of snow. the cemetery welcomed me like a friend, and soon, i was with them. i bowed my head.

my anxious heart is eating up my body, eating up my nerves, eating up my brain. i feel this poison slowly filling my veins, every particle becoming slowly tainted… i am never ever calm fora instant.

i think you lost all interest in the world. you were disappointed and discouraged, and lost interest in everything. so you abandoned your physical body. you went to a world apart and you’re living a different kind of life there.