The dark cold heart of trauma. Its controlled demolition.
Beautiful on the outside, ugly on the inside, turns on a dime.
There is a silent space where you used to be that must be filled with dance.
Take it. All your Kingdom. Except me.
We forget. Friction creates fire.
You learn the difference between letting go of someone and losing someone when the one you lost never returns.
He needs to be real.
Like the Sun.