art, black, and bolt image

Honeysuckles, summer, pool parties, sweet songs, rough voices in the morning. My favorite memories with splashes of bad ones. Like tear stains on a paper. Lips touching lips as they lie, kissing like an antidote. Couldn’t hear the thunder over the sound of the summer heartbreak, but it gets harder. I refuse to cry, no matter the rage or the love. I will not be represented as weak. The rain will rage on and the thunder will crash against my ribs as I scream into the endless wind. Keep on making me cry, you do not know what you did to me.

cry, sad, and comic image