I’m the girl you’ll beg to forget. I **** cherries and stain
my lips with their blood. Sometimes, I swallow the sky
just to see how fast the stars will die inside me. I don’t
speak, I scream. I am wind trapped in a room, the fire in
your eyes.
(hate or lust?)
But I am not warm. With me, you’ll feel cold and alone.
I live only so you hate who you are around me, you still
can’t stop chasing after me. You’ll hate who you become
when you get close to the girl who laughs lies and crushes
rose petals just to see them bleed.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
A beer bottle curled lazily
around my moist lips, but
my mouth tasted like gin and Regret.
He looked at me
and the sky seemed to darken with
his cold stare.
Lately,
Regret wasn’t a foreign substance
on my tongue.
He tipped his nose up,
said,
“the sky is angry, doleful, but
the clouds will not cry for you,
and neither will I.”
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC