I loved everything to anything to everyone who surrounded him. He was perfect. A delusion with a sweet melancholy taste. He was crazy, but he was my crazy and inside, everything felt right.

Loving you was hard, wanting you was harder, but kissing your forehead was insanity.

I’ve been alone in my mind for so long that this void doesn’t frighten me.

I found you in our truth. Running sideways for a broken muse who loved strangers as much as alcohol.

He wasn’t a good person, but I painted him to be and since I painted it, I believed it.

I realized I loved him after everything went wrong so I wallowed in self-pity and prayed I could wake up.

You choose darkness over light because one is the truth and one is the mask.

You mistake tragedy for horror because no one likes true sadness.

You slip in night because darkness is a type of coldness. A temperature where you feel somewhat safe. By feeling safe, you feel like you. You blend in with the night causing your shades to become temporary enough to expose them.