не целься мне в сердце - я в бронежилете

It’s so hard, isn’t it? hard for you to pull out the thread of those words? but you stay silent, as if each one cuts your throat from the inside. am I asking for the impossible?
or am I simply asking for too much?
at least a few words? but maybe there are no words left. maybe..nothing’s left at all.

nothing is eternal under the moon

how can I understand intentions if they are covered by a veil of absolute acceptance?

but even more:

how can this veil be both a warming blanket and a white mold?

death is worth living. and love is worth waiting for.

I tear my heart to shreds a million times to accept the unchangeable truth of our outcome. but I can't, I still can't.

I would sooner let my veins run with needles and molten fire than feel them hollow, bloodless, bereft of this crucified love.

I wish I could quietly just stop existing without hurting anyone.

I lost a person because of your rotten tongue. he had a part of my soul.

you betrayed me. and I can never get him back.
I wish I had never met you. unfeeling, selfish bitch.

take my heart, rip it out of my chest. roll it in the dust, smear it and stick it back into me. make me love you the same way as before - but with a dead heart.

accuse me of not feeling what was before. kill me and accuse me of not breathing.

you will be imbued with the slightest silky touch of their hands, which then leave a burn on your skin.

you will immerse yourself in pain and elevate it to love, enveloping yourself in dreams of the impossible.