I am not like
other people.
I am
burning in hell.
the hell of
myself.
Cutting me open nightly, blooming through the cracks of the ribs.
I only want to be the sun for you. ❞
My mouth is a wound and you
want to kiss me.
But you’re like
that: You want to go
leaping over cliffs–
you want to go
drinking poison
and then write pretty poems about it–
and all I want to do is
fuck you. ❞
a woman’s body is not for you. if she wants to cover it she should feel free and safe in doing so. if she wants to expose it she should feel free and safe in doing so. it is not an indication of her self-respect but an indication of her preferences for whatever reasons she chooses — none of which are your business or concern.
Do you ever feel like someone doesn’t want to be friends with you anymore? They don’t have to say anything, you just know. They talk to other people more than you, take hours to reply to your texts instead of minutes, constantly make plans with other people and hardly ask you to hang out. All along you know it isn’t gonna end well but you still have that sliver of hope. And that one day, they ignore you completely. And you know, you finally have to accept, you were right.
“Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and monuments
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth.”
