words and shit

Sober, I’m the man you’d trust with your heartbeat.Every yes whispered, every no honored like scripture.I’m all soft edges and open doors,smiling wide, carrying my own weight so I don’t…

It’s the quiet kind of death I think about—the one that doesn’t make a soundno bells ringing, no sirens screaming through a night that’s already dark enough,just the slow folding…

i remember you said i’d never change. and maybe you were right. maybe i’ve always been a little too quick to burn and too slow to learn how to stay…

We never met at the altar—they burned that down before we were born. We met in the smolder, in the space between protest chants and whispered prayers, on the street…