lifeinpoetry:

“The way grief needs oxygen. The way every once in a while, it catches the light and starts smoking. The way my grief will die with me. The way it will cleave and grow like antlers.”

— Victoria Chang, from Obit

06·02·21 3715n rblg
hmmmm big valentine/johnny mood grief rising in his throat every time he looks in the mirror with eyes that weren't his at a face that wasn't isn't his and maybe never will be no matter how far he gets from night city he's just borrowing it really silverv
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