words and shit

Love’s a loaded gun with no safety— I kissed the barrel, dared it to save me. Midnight prayers in a language we made, Tongues like switchblades, vows like grenades. You…

They named a storm after me -and I ain’t even flinch-. Didn’t need no forecast to know -I’d tear shit down and baptize it holy-. Skies don’t cry — -they…

By the time you read this, I imagine the silence between us will already feel like a season. And still, I needed to write you, because not every goodbye is…

Start by peeling back the layers—like citrus rind under your nails, sharp and fragrant. Bitterness clings at first, but underneath? Juice. Sweetness. Sun-warmed possibility. Slide your hand across your own…