Wasted Words

Throw me to the wolves.

32 notes

It’s amazing, reading these old messages of ours, that all it took was one painful act to turn us from something white-hot and electric into strangers. It’s nuclear fission, the splitting of a particle and the intense wave of energy that results, all of it eating me alive. It’s a white witch moth in reverse, furling its wings and crawling back into its cocoon. I can scarcely recall writing these words. I can scarcely believe that you read them and made promises neither one of us could keep.

Filed under (ostensibly) writing the past is passed is past

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    And I wonder if all my love will end this way.
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