inkskinned:

our hearts were made of stronger stuff than this. am i crying because it is the only thing left or because even the earth needs rain. our hands were formed to create. explain this to me while you’re sipping your coffee. explain to me the hole in the wall where you punched through your mother’s divorce. the hole in yourself you ripped, strings you tied off. you don’t believe in love and that’s okay. maybe love doesn’t believe in you. at eighteen you knew how to sew yourself into bed at night and rip yourself out of it in the mornings. tell me about the tiny destruction. about how your heart aches for things beyond the ocean. about how you’ve always wanted out but you’ve since lowered your goals to just surviving. about how the walls of your home are teeth. you were made to love so much it would wake up the sun. you fill that empty with numb. your hands shake. tell me over coffee we were made to create; tell me over the phone you’re destroying yourself anyway. we were supposed to be better but we forgot the equation somewhere in our childhood fish graves. i tell you that you can stand up and run. you tell me you’ve given up. 

what makes death a lover? oh, when he’s won.