What dismantled you—you bereft idiot—was not even the God who made the Ninth House, the Emperor All-Giving, the Kindly Prince; your end appeared in the form of a grown adult telling you that they might have liked you for their own.
I want to lay on the train tracks with you
I want to tie you down the way that lovers do
In the morning, I’ll love the mangled bits of you
I’ll love you when your lips turn cornflower blue
But nevertheless, I was prepared to die
For that thing in your chest, fuck your money
I fantasize about those nights you held me down
And sewed your lips to mine
...As for why I made that pledge, it's very simple. Rather than you from the past, or the distant future, I had chosen the you of tomorrow, who is within my reach. That's it.
In all of his worst nightmares, she’s dying. She’s fading away in his arms, helpless and whimpering, while hot, dark blood spills over his fingers. This, he tells her. He doesn’t tell her that his hand holds the blade.
I’d realized something. It’s too late once they’re taken away from you. If you want something, you have to bury it right away. So long as there’s a grave for it…It’s all mine…forever.