de·tri·tus: waste or debris of any kind.
even among heaps of decaying words, bits and pieces of life can still be found.
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cover photo is by harmoniesdusoir on tumblr.
thorns wrapped themselves around her neck making a home out of her flesh while concealing a rotten scent with the perfume of satin roses.
it was absolutely dizzying spinning with petals as they danced in the roaring breeze she screamed as they crumbled into ash and fell down
down
down.
nauseous from the divine storm she choked on honey blossoms while swallowing pomegranate seeds painting a saccharine smile on her porcelain face.
beauty is pain, she whispered as the thorns embraced her throat leaving behind ugly purple bruises before concealing the pain with loving kisses.
as her blood dripped onto dainty white flowers painting them with a crimson hue and delusions of golden ichor she finally knew what it meant to be beautiful.
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