pretty girl with pretty flowers,
do not be afraid to trace the soft curves of your body
with your round, round eyes.
your monsters hide not there—
your guardian angels do.
when your night feels longer than the day,
breathe the smidgen of youth you have left in you
into the birds swimming fluidly with the stars—
their wings swiftly cutting smooth ripples into the sky,
disturbing the grumbling twilight.
you could be one of them,
able to go nowhere and everywhere.
like air.
don’t you want to go home?
sad girl with sad flowers,
keep your leaves tucked inside your old books,
in lacy sleeves, your peeling boots—
hope He finds them all there.
sing sweetly of the poets of all ages—siken, plath, wilde, whitman—
shamelessly climb inside His chest,
gently rip His ribs apart,
the you that's serenading, softly seducing Him
with songs unsung and dreams undreamt.
let your baby blue skirt ride up,
drip, drip, drip,
let His calloused fingers brush your thighs made of syrupy milk,
as you smile, and smile, and smile.
fiery girl with stormy flowers,
the best things in life cannot be confined to a physical shape, cannot be
seen, or touched, or heard, or said—
yet in your eyes set heavy by damp eyelashes,
there is the primal, unconfined, raw thirst,
desperately hoping and searching.
is it a lost love? an unfounded love?
what is it that you are looking for?
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
to see you once more with the soft twilight behind you,
the pastel glow harsh on your skin, your freckled cheeks flushed
from the summer heat, your eyes like sister stars rivaling the *******
sun keep laughing darling please i'll always be here to listen
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
img: sweat dripping down the curve of her neck, seeping through the collar of her shirt, tugging down said shirt & fanning herself, a popsicle, a wicked tongue lazily swirling around the top, a whisper & a light breeze by the ear, hot & bothered, warm, safe, loved, lusted after, all the same, cicadas crying out, hazy memories, hair messily pinned up, tiny pecks & heavy kisses, giggles, *** & cuddles, no blankets, cat & pup, iced tea, condensation dripping & pooling on a desk, sunlight streaming through the blinds, hands intertwined, soaked sheets, content smiles, bliss
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 2:02 AM UTC
may 13th, 9:22 pm
it's so silly to think that you used to be so warm underneath me and now you're underneath the ground six feet in and no one to love or kiss your broken fingers
may 16th, 8:41 pm
i wish you didn't have to leave me
i wish you could've killed me yourself
your heart's too soft for that though and i love you all the more for it
that's still not stopping me from missing you still
may 27th, 12:34 am
i loved you
i still do
**** you for leaving and not telling me about it
how could you have done that
you caught me unaware, you *******
i miss you
jul 6th, 11:32 pm
my chest hurts
i don't think it's my ribs this time
it feels deeper
jul 18, 4:03 pm
i wish you and i had been a little stronger
i wish i had a chance to see your greying hair
to kiss your wrinkled eyelids
to wrap myself around you
'til death do us part
jul 20, 2:47 am
death came a little early for you, darling
you were my dream
jul 23, 6:08 pm
you still are.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 6:08 AM UTC
and no matter how much i tell myself that i will never be anything to you but a hole to **** as i twist my head back to look at you, your eyes closed with bliss, the space between your eyes wrinkled, and your lips stuttering with harsh grunts with every ****** of your body in me,
a whine escapes my mouth,
and almost carelessly, as if it cost you nothing at all,
you reach down down down;
mercy comes in the form of your tongue on my lips, and like a parched traveler, i drink from your mouth
as if it were an oasis in this ****** wasteland
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 1:19 AM UTC
i hate writing
i hate the whole process of having to destroy and to rebuild myself
i hate the way some words just won't flow right; the ideas are there, the heart and the soul, but not the words, god, not the words
i hate the way my muse keeps me up on completely inconvenient times, three in the morning, or two in the afternoon
i hate the way i have to bleed across the page to make something i can barely call good
god, i ******* hate writing
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:29 PM UTC
and you dare stand up from the sheets where our body fluids have mixed and dried, wordlessly dressing yourself up and leaving the echo of the door closing in your wake and just you ******* wait i'm going to lace your tea with poison, and oh, isn't it just unfortunate that your house has this terribly long staircase and your wife just always had to wear frighteningly high heels?
but then again, you'd like that, wouldn't you? you at my mercy just like a few hours ago when i pinned your wrists above your head and your pelvis under the curve of my **** painfully teasing you with the slow drag of my hips, impaling myself on you, raising myself up so so slowly until only the head of your **** catches on the lips of my entrance and i slam myself back on you, as you gasp and gasp and gasp, begging for release, for mercy, like the pathetic lover you are with your cries spurring me on, the trembles of your body betraying you, betraying your wife, but never betraying me because you know, ******* you, you know, deep inside, that you are mine—you are mine and i will never let you go
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
choke me, you gasp in the blinding heat of your embrace
his movements falter but return with more vigour, as if such a thing was possible
you guide his hands to your neck as if guiding a child lost in his path;
and yes, maybe you both are still children
trying to find ways to survive in each other
his nails dig into your pulse, into your airways
and never have you been more intimate
he is inside you,
wholly,
completely
within the cages of your ribs
and your lungs try to gasp for air
but it really doesn't change anything much
(you've been breathless around him for quite awhile, after all)
you still seek for his lips,
his tongue in your mouth;
you want to **** everything from him
into you
until you both become too entangled
and neither of you could be distinguished from the other
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:12 PM UTC
your moans stamped themselves on my skin,
but your laughter ripped my ribs apart and kissed this broken heart
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC
you've always believed in two things religiously:
1) if you want something, you have to pull your hair back, grit your teeth, and work for it.
2) stopping from improving is regressing.
tonight, i realise that it was never about winning.
never about getting that medal or that spot on the stage.
it was silly of me to think that you just wanted my blood on your hands.
starving for recognition from your blood family, you were in a completely different competition than i was.
we carried corpses on our bruised shoulders.
they pushed against our broken backs; our swollen knees trying to keep our bodies upright.
you once told me i had a face that was good for punching,
and, oh god, i'd have had let you if it meant your hands on my skin.
in the end, what's left was this:
a single note in a cacophony of screams.
you are dead.
you are dead.
you are dead.
maybe if i keep repeating it to myself, i'd start believing it.
and yet it's far too late for impulsive declarations of love.
too late for so many things.
(but some days, i like thinking of you, thinking of me.)
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC