bocold

Love, he has abandoned me, Love, he left --unceremoniously, why must I love him still?

I've forgotten what it was like to feel the sun on my skin without worrying that it could hurt me. I've stopped throwing myself from cliffs, with my arms in the air, waiting for the splash below.

He was the sound of glass shattering --the sharp ringing in your ears

as winter gave way to summer the dust motes dancing in the sunlight blurred into pixels