The flowers grew in your chest as your love for her blossomed. But you have no way of preserving them. They bloom from your blood and wilt from your pain.

To be Death is to be cruel and ugly for Death is not beautiful. To be Death is to be alone for Death is incapable of love… no, to be Death is to love life, for life is beautiful and Death is not.

Rosé loved the stage. The lights, the noise, the adrenaline rush she gets every time the camera is on her; there’s no feeling better than that. Well, there is one thing that is far better.

    It was raining when Wendy stumbled across your cafe. Despite how blue it was outside, you shined like the sun, bright like yellow. It was the perfect set up for Wendy to come in and sweep you off your feet like the guys in a cheesy rom-com. Well, that’s what it started as anyway.

The last time you were here, you broke up with your girlfriend. The last time you were here, you left with unanswered questions and a bitter taste in your mouth. You secretly hope it doesn’t end up like the last time.