Nov 2017
i wonder how we ended up so broken.
you; soft hair, strong arms, bruised heart, bruised skin, angel boy. cant tell the difference between wrong and right, tells me to leave when he wants me to stay and doesnt listen when i tell him no. small town with even smaller hearts, you cant figure out when to put the bottle down. you buy cigarettes by the carton and each time you tell me itll be the last. small white pills and late nights, powder around the rim of your nose, falling down to rest on your upper lip. i dont care that when i kiss you all i taste is cigarettes and the shame of your bad decisions. or when i bury my head in your chest i cant smell your cologne, just stale cigarettes and the lingering scent of alcohol and her perfume. angel boy.
me; blonde haired blue eyed angel girl. soft pale hair, even paler skin. losing feathers each time our lips touch, the bile rises in my throat and soon i wont be able to fly. innocent before i met you but now i dont know the meaning of the word. self destructive in a whole new sense, no longer bright red that oozes from my split skin, but a steady stream of unholy that you bring. white lines, white pills, white skin when i take too much. blue lips, slow heartbeat. your hand in mine as my vision fades and my head spins. angel girl.
us; bruised hearts, bruised skin, bruised dignity. we crawl back to eachother like we forgot the acent into hell from the last time. everytime a bell rings an angel gains their wings, but everytime my phone rings and you name lights up on the screen i can feel my chance at redemption slipping further and further away.
you; new year, new girl, “new” you. no more pin ****** in the crook of your arm, no more late nights and drinking until your head spins. church every sunday, you dont skip a day of class. but looks can be deceiving, i can see this false halo of yours slipping. you call me at one in the morning and you tell me god is sleeping. sitting the passenger seat of your old pickup, hand on my thigh, bottle passed between us and i can taste the alcohol on your breath when we kiss. its not unholy when the lights are out and its always a little more fun if its a little bit wrong.
me; shakey hands, quivvering voice, too much anxiety not enough courage. short skirts, triumphant smirk. his hand on my thigh, your eyes glaring from across the room. easy laughter and quick smiles, smouldering gaze and angerly tapping your foot. jealous looks good on you. fingers fumbling in the dark, slipping down the rabbit hole again.
you; dark hair, dark thoughts, eyes rolled back into your head like youre searching for the will to continue loving me. clenched jaw, steady stare. imagining colours littering my body, and refraining but only for the sake of a small smile and bright eyes that stare up at you, angel boy. a soft laugh, a promise that this wont happen again. youre happy, you found someone. but we both know youll come back again, unable to resist grabbing me by the jaw and seeing the fear in my eyes as you tell me what youll do to me. you wont remember who she is when youre with me. the shame after is worth it, to see the expanse of my pale skin stretched out across your bedding.
me; soft hair, soft voice, soft touch. cant resist the way our skin clashes when we’re together. your body looks nice draped across mine, tan body, warm skin, warm heart. always ignore the pain i feel when you help me back into my clothes and call her on the phone, to ease your mind. erase everything. i help you strip the bed and wash your sheets so theyre clean when she comes over the next day. i play our song softly, smile when i hear you whispering along. forehead kisses and the smell of your skin. your soft bed and your hand in my hair, light touches up and down my arms. we both know that this is the best type of sin, your hand in mine, and no fear of reprocussion from false gods and deities.
you; unable to remember the last time you were this happy with her in your arms but unwillingly to admit you made a mistake. fake smiles and meaningless ***. your father doesnt like her and your grandparents dont feel the need to protect her. your mother pretends she doesnt notice your dark circles and disheveled hair, and i pretend i dont notice the lipstick smudges on your collar. doesnt she know how you detest it? i dont know her name you never tell me, but it doesnt matter when youre with me. still cant tell the difference between right and wrong, its okay if youre ******* me when youre ****** up. the drugs made you do it, didnt you know, angel boy? the wreckage of your soul gets worse every second you spend with me. but god has forsaken you, its only a matter of time before you end up in hell.
me; hair that hasnt seen a brush in weeks, shorter skirts, longer nights, white lines, acid drop god and oxytocin devil. i only cry when the stars die, i wonder what that says about me as a person. light bruises littering my neck, sore wrists, sore heart. sobriety sounds like a myth, belonging with stories of p Persephone and Mount Olympus. i havent seen a sober day in months, stumbling into his truck, waking up drunk. pills are my best friends, go down easy and last long. the curious feeling that everything is becomming less than real, hazy thoughts and a mind that plays tricks on me, batting eyelashes at men in bars to get my way, angel girl.
us; stolen pills, stolen alcohol, stolen hearts. boys who look at me with lust in their eyes and good intentions in their hearts. girls who dream about you at night, holding them close in their sleep. self destruction in the most glorious way. trading in our wings for cheap thrills and golden rings. cant remember the past three years of our lives, but understanding we opened a door we couldnt close. the fall from heaven was hard, the acent into hell was easy. tattered dreams and broken hearts, sad eyes, tired eyes, clouded vision, blown pupils. you and i.
you; soft hair, strong arms, bruised heart, bruised skin, angel boy. flicking ash onto the carpet, setting your heart aflame. fire department comes too late. too many sleepless nights and smoke filled lungs. left to the ruins of your life.
me; blonde haired blue eyed angel girl. soft pale hair, even paler skin. i want to look pretty when you find me dead in the bathtub. too many stolen pills, not enough will to live.
you; soft hair, strong arms, bruised heart, bruised skin, angel boy. cant tell the difference between wrong and right, tells me to leave when he wants me to stay and doesnt listen when i tell him no. small town with even smaller hearts, you cant figure out when to put the bottle down. you buy cigarettes by the carton and each time you tell me itll be the last. small white pills and late nights, powder around the rim of your nose, falling down to rest on your upper lip. i dont care that when i kiss you all i taste is cigarettes and the shame of your bad decisions. or when i bury my head in your chest i cant smell your cologne, just stale cigarettes and the lingering scent of alcohol and her perfume. angel boy.
me; blonde haired blue eyed angel girl. soft pale hair, even paler skin. losing feathers each time our lips touch, the bile rises in my throat and soon i wont be able to fly. innocent before i met you but now i dont know the meaning of the word. self destructive in a whole new sense, no longer bright red that oozes from my split skin, but a steady stream of unholy that you bring. white lines, white pills, white skin when i take too much. blue lips, slow heartbeat. your hand in mine as my vision fades and my head spins. angel girl.
us; bruised hearts, bruised skin, bruised dignity. we crawl back to eachother like we forgot the acent into hell from the last time. everytime a bell rings an angel gains their wings, but everytime my phone rings and you name lights up on the screen i can feel my chance at redemption slipping further and further away.
you; new year, new girl, “new” you. no more pin ****** in the crook of your arm, no more late nights and drinking until your head spins. church every sunday, you dont skip a day of class. but looks can be deceiving, i can see this false halo of yours slipping. you call me at one in the morning and you tell me god is sleeping. sitting the passenger seat of your old pickup, hand on my thigh, bottle passed between us and i can taste the alcohol on your breath when we kiss. its not unholy when the lights are out and its always a little more fun if its a little bit wrong.
me; shakey hands, quivvering voice, too much anxiety not enough courage. short skirts, triumphant smirk. his hand on my thigh, your eyes glaring from across the room. easy laughter and quick smiles, smouldering gaze and angerly tapping your foot. jealous looks good on you. fingers fumbling in the dark, slipping down the rabbit hole again.
you; dark hair, dark thoughts, eyes rolled back into your head like youre searching for the will to continue loving me. clenched jaw, steady stare. imagining colours littering my body, and refraining but only for the sake of a small smile and bright eyes that stare up at you, angel boy. a soft laugh, a promise that this wont happen again. youre happy, you found someone. but we both know youll come back again, unable to resist grabbing me by the jaw and seeing the fear in my eyes as you tell me what youll do to me. you wont remember who she is when youre with me. the shame after is worth it, to see the expanse of my pale skin stretched out across your bedding.
me; soft hair, soft voice, soft touch. cant resist the way our skin clashes when we’re together. your body looks nice draped across mine, tan body, warm skin, warm heart. always ignore the pain i feel when you help me back into my clothes and call her on the phone, to ease your mind. erase everything. i help you strip the bed and wash your sheets so theyre clean when she comes over the next day. i play our song softly, smile when i hear you whispering along. forehead kisses and the smell of your skin. your soft bed and your hand in my hair, light touches up and down my arms. we both know that this is the best type of sin, your hand in mine, and no fear of reprocussion from false gods and deities.
you; unable to remember the last time you were this happy with her in your arms but unwillingly to admit you made a mistake. fake smiles and meaningless ***. your father doesnt like her and your grandparents dont feel the need to protect her. your mother pretends she doesnt notice your dark circles and disheveled hair, and i pretend i dont notice the lipstick smudges on your collar. doesnt she know how you detest it? i dont know her name you never tell me, but it doesnt matter when youre with me. still cant tell the difference between right and wrong, its okay if youre ******* me when youre ****** up. the drugs made you do it, didnt you know, angel boy? the wreckage of your soul gets worse every second you spend with me. but god has forsaken you, its only a matter of time before you end up in hell.
me; hair that hasnt seen a brush in weeks, shorter skirts, longer nights, white lines, acid drop god and oxytocin devil. i only cry when the stars die, i wonder what that says about me as a person. light bruises littering my neck, sore wrists, sore heart. sobriety sounds like a myth, belonging with stories of p Persephone and Mount Olympus. i havent seen a sober day in months, stumbling into his truck, waking up drunk. pills are my best friends, go down easy and last long. the curious feeling that everything is becomming less than real, hazy thoughts and a mind that plays tricks on me, batting eyelashes at men in bars to get my way, angel girl.
us; stolen pills, stolen alcohol, stolen hearts. boys who look at me with lust in their eyes and good intentions in their hearts. girls who dream about you at night, holding them close in their sleep. self destruction in the most glorious way. trading in our wings for cheap thrills and golden rings. cant remember the past three years of our lives, but understanding we opened a door we couldnt close. the fall from heaven was hard, the acent into hell was easy. tattered dreams and broken hearts, sad eyes, tired eyes, clouded vision, blown pupils. you and i.
you; soft hair, strong arms, bruised heart, bruised skin, angel boy. flicking ash onto the carpet, setting your heart aflame. fire department comes too late. too many sleepless nights and smoke filled lungs. left to the ruins of your life.
me; blonde haired blue eyed angel girl. soft pale hair, even paler skin. i want to look pretty when you find me dead in the bathtub. too many stolen pills, not enough will to live.
