last season i fell for you last month i cried for you this week i’ve been so angry with you so i think, that today or maybe tomorrow, i’ll enter the last stage & i’ll finally get over you
Look at all these words she spits on paper All this screaming, all this incurable desperation She doesn’t want to, but she sees no other way to release herself from her hunger, her pain & ponder To extricate herself from the hopelessness & emptiness that keeps her hostage She stays haunted by the rose-coloured past [...]
& with every piece of herself she gave to the world, she lost herself a little more, until she was completely offshore
I’m slightly relieved it’s getting harder to reminisce the feeling of your presence, the leniency of your lips & the enchanting subtlety of the revulsive motion of your body. I fail to remember, which makes it a little more facile to forget about you, the way you did about me.
Maybe you could love me if I’d be a little less sad, a little more daring, a little less living in my head Maybe you could love me if I drank a little more & wore a little less
"Here's to the free spirits that still believe in magic and wonders. Here's to the hopeless romantics that love beyond borders & here's to the wild hearts that are brave enough to follow their soul-path."
"It's tragically ironic and rather sad, because from the moment we met, I knew our goodbye had already taken the train to our location. In London, heartbreak was our final destination"