I hold so much regret for the things I could not say when given the opportunity.

I wish there was a more sacred word for loving someone. It has become a silent goodbye in the whisper of society.
I feel that unknowable, un-named, sacred word deeply when I look at you.

There should only be one and it will be my last one.

The nicest killings begin with bitter panic attacks followed by the heartache of a shattered soul.