"I think of you with every fucking love song and every happy moment and when I picture the future and when I'm sad and every fucking night when I can't fall asleep, your face is in my head and your voice is in my ears and you're in my heart that I want to tear on and stomp on until it's nothing but a blood red pile of fucked up love."
YOU ARE READING
After Death
PoetryAfter one piece of you dies, what becomes of the rest? (Sequel to "Torched.")
