I Fell For You Gently As Leaves Do On A Dreary Autumn Evening.

I fell for you gently as leaves do on a dreary autumn evening.

You continued to bloom delicately as you were the sweetest child of spring.

Unnoticed for years, my world has been touched by you.

In running away from home, I found a home in you.

I fell for you, like hades fell for persephone

And I am falling, like moon falls around the earth still.

I write this with my love, hoping that you might see this too.

I share this with the world, but really it only ever was for you.

Pic via pinterest

To simply exist in all her devotion.

Sometimes I want to go back and hug my younger self, and then I remember I’m still her and I’m still deserving of that love

Green eyes

Green eyes more altering than the phases of the moon itself.

Warm green of honeydew when life strikes with kindness.

At crucial times, a poised snake; cautious and still.

A lurid shade of poison ivy, a secret to unveil.

A sea green touch when victorious. A glory to be held.

A lover's touch, an emerald flush. A fondness to be felt.

A steady green of summer leaves, at humour and sheer delight.

Anger darkens them cold and harsh, to the almost black of woods at night.

An endless chase of grief and despair, a helpless shade of teal.

A bleeding heel and olive green. Your eyes they haunt me still.

If life is a cold, harsh night

You are the moon that makes it bearable

For what other thing would thrive?

Even in the most monstrous forms of dark?

If to love is to rest

Then I will perceive death for you.

For what greater form of rest do we know?

Than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?

If to long is to grieve

Then I shall make home of a funeral

For what harsher grief it is?

Than to irreversibly lose someone

Tw: self harm, self loathing

A girl lies on her bedroom floor.

She bleeds through her eyes and cries through her veins.

I watch her helplessly and let her fall apart.

Everyday she fights long lost battles and dies gruesome deaths.

Her life is nothing but a grave full of dead hopes.

I watch her and do nothing.

Perhaps because there isn't much left of her to be saved.

She is covered in bruises I don't recognize her anymore.

I watch her with curiosity.

Her eyes dark and cold like the night itself, she reeks of misery.

A home full of ghosts, none of them remotedly as dead as her soul.

I watch her mercilessly.

After all that's what monsters like her deserve.

I say, and I stop watching her.

No part of her deserves to be loved.

I say, and I step away from the mirror.