The Skin On Our Bones

"i have a feeling this might be a big mistake, or maybe, if we're lucky- something star-crossed." a small collection of poems written by a silly girl.

romanticism of monsters

careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.