Cupid’S Own

“This is my last love letter to you, though some would call it a confession. I suppose both are a sort of gentle violence, putting down in ink what scorches the air when spoken aloud.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“Moderation or self-death,”
― Exurb1a, Geometry for Ocelots

“I simply broke under the weight of thousand tense nights, a thousand thoughtless, soul-stripping words.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood

“You did not let me keep my name, so I will strip you of yours. In this world you are what I say you are, and I say you are a ghost, a long night's fever dream that I have finally woken up from. I say you are the smoke-wisp memory of a flame, thawing ice suffering under an early spring sun, a chalk ledger of depts being wiped clean. I say you do not have a name.”
― S.T. Gibson, A Dowry of Blood