they act as if their dead insides, machinist hearts are most valuable. guarded, i’m sure, guards while swords pierce the heart of my soft soul – but there must be a purpose, a worth in delicacy.
When you try to blind my eyes, I can see tenfold
It’s nothing that my heart can’t take
Cause your hate has made me strong
And stronger men than you have tried to break me
*image of me sprawled out, hugging, needing the floor*
garden reading & I just want – no, need – the sky to open up, to let it out, to let my secrets into the flowing cycle of life, the universal oneness, the tears from the heavens I deny so well. a cardinal calls for his lover & I am broken, a word I always scoffed at, now I wince, wince like the salting of a self inflicted wound, ache for the clouds to sing songs of nourishment, the winds to blow my past, present, future, the days to slow and speed up, life to just.. be. how do I be?