Remember.
The apple that
killed
Snow White was a masterpiece brewed from the poison of jealousy.
Not hate.
168th hour



written on Friday, April 11, 2014 1:31 AM


I don't know how you do it
Call me by my pet name and spare me the negative crazy talks
And all this pressure piling below my breasts
And all this while having my heart stuck at my throat
And all this breathlessness and having my limbs and insides twisted the whole time
You lift 'em right off me
So effortlessly
I feel complete again

You fix me the way no prayers could ever comfort
But fearful I am
This might soon again come to an end

You have the power to literally sweep me off my feet anytime

For the good and the bad

You're so dangerous for me