there isn't a day where I haven't cried at the moon while I dreamed of a world where I've met you.
I'd climb my roof at the middle of the night and sat in the crook of the between the bathroom and my parent's bedroom,
drinking cheap brandy and breathing in the stars that collided with my sore eyes forcing me to flinch against the stars that I loved so.
I Imagined you with me until I became so sick of the thought that I threw up, leaving my stomach to rot.
I love to imagine that I'm destroying my body in the most poetic way possible for you, and when I realize I'm not, I'll frown to myself and stare at my naked body in the mirror.
I'm going to live for me or die trying.