"‘How do you know when it’s over?’ 
‘Maybe when you feel more in love with your memories than with the person standing in front of you.’"

you love me anyways, don’t you? And if you don’t, I’ll always have the hope that you do, and I’m satisfied with that.

stop staring at me
my body is so small compared to the sun
my heart is so small

"The bed itself is an operating table
where my dreams slice me to pieces.


sometimes you can be addicted to both

writing love letters
to the rain, to tomorrow morning, to the night’s dimming streetlamps, to my own heartbeat, to everything we’ve lost, to what is buried still to be found, to weightlessness, to hope
and not to you. not anymore. 

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