Blood Is A Strange Color. It's Darker

I Feel Acutely Aware Of How Young I Am. In A Way That Is Good. It's Productive. It Makes Me Realise That I Should Be Growing As A Writer And A Person.

But When I Do Feel All The Strength Go Out Of Me, And I Fall To My Knees Beside The Table And I Think I Cry, Then, Or At Least I Want To, And Everything Inside Me Screams For Just One More Kiss, One More Word, One More Glance, One More.

We Believe In Shouting For Those Who Can Only Whisper, In Defending Those Who Cannot Defend Themselves.

"what Did You Do?” This Time The Question Tears From My Throat Like A Growl. I Throw Myself Toward Him. “what Did You Do?” I Scream. “you Die, I Die Too. I Asked You Not To Do This. You Made Your Decision. These Are The Repercussions."

That Night We Push Our Cots Just A Little Closer Together, And Look Into Each Other's Eyes In The Moments Before We Fall Asleep. When He Finally Drifts Off, Our Fingers Are Twisted Together In The Space Between The Beds. I Smile A Little, And Let Myself Go.