୨!!! content warning: toxic/abusive relationship is hinted to !!!୧

♡

♡

♡

I’d like to think there’s something poetic in our love—that somehow, with the right words, it could be bent and twisted into beauty. A fable whispered in the dark, a story etched into hearts: a lesson to heed, a cautionary tale of passion and ruin.

But there is no poetry here. No soft metaphors, no bittersweet rhymes. Just blood, raw and unrelenting. Just pain, searing and unyielding. These wounds don’t heal into meaning. They’re only scars, silent and stubborn. 

 I think I’m finally learning to accept that. 

 There is a strange comfort in surrender. To stop fighting, to stop searching for reasons, to let the weight of it settle over me like a storm that never ends. It’s easier when you let it consume you— when you give in to the endless ache, when you let the fire burn until there’s nothing left of who you were, only ashes, only silence.

I wanted to believe our love could be something more, something worth remembering, but maybe the only lesson here is how easy it is to lose yourself when you love something that was never meant to save you.

i plan on posting more of my writing so if you like this stick around for more :3