and now you're in love again. Forgot to guard your heart with iron, but instead lined it with roses. Wore a sign that read "Vacant." Wore a sign that read "Lonely."
They warned you, didn't they? In your living room, your mother tells you love is just natures trick so that humans won't go extinct. But you didn't believe her, did you? You think love is something warm, all those words he used to tell you.
So you want to kiss him. So you think about his lips so much that everything turns to rain. So you hurt yourself every time. You're like your father now; you love with a fire that outranks the Great Chicago Fire but you forget that you burn everything away. Your mother tells you that you are a watercolor and you hate it. He made you feel like a flood. You smiled as he cried for you.
great chicago fire // e.s.
