Nobody’s.
Just want to be somebody’s.

What if I told you I dreamed too high,
But you always wanted me low?

My head clearly belongs in the clouds
While your face is upside down, in the ground.

My feet on the very edge of the chair.
Too busy in my fabricated daydreams, unaware.

Do I miss you? Not really.
Thanks for all the times you treated me painfully.

If only you could see me now,
I could take you to those clouds.

But I know one day you’ll visit me
Bothered by the disgusting feelings.

I loved when your hands were on me,
But now all I feel is the weight of rope tightening.

You’ve overfed me everything you had at your disposable
Staring up at me as I’m hanging from the ceiling.
Chocolate, syrup, honey, lollipops.
My belly’s rumbling.
It’s scaring me.
Sweat continues to wash over my pale face.
With trembling hands I try to tear my stomach open by myself.
And there you are waving a bat right underneath my feet.
“Blindfold on or off?” You ask amusingly with a growing grin.
The black fabric peaking from your pocket which you ignore to take out.
I’ve lost. My mouth sewn shut. I can’t be saved now.
I mumble uncontrollably as you raise for the first blow.
It hurts, my whole body is ringing of burning pain, as I swing around fast side to side.
You spin for another blow with your eyes closed this time.
You miss.
You do it again, eyes open.
Pain explodes faster everywhere.
I’m muffling praying to fall any second now.
“COME ON YOU’RE GREEEDY YOU KNOW THAT?!!” He shouts jumping from below.
“OPEN UP!! GIVE ME SOME!!! I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING AND YOU DON’T SHARE??”
Tears are falling. I’m the one at fault. I’m the empath and you’ll do anything to make me feel this way, no matter what I do, it won’t be enough.
You overfed me and I ate so it was my fault.
You tried getting it all back but couldn’t expel it out of me so it was my fault.
You did your part, and all I did was intervene.
It’s all my fault.
It’s not you.
It’s all me.

He preferred unwashed and touched skins
I was ripe and fresh, with my green leaf
Shiny as if someone polished me against their polo shirt.

He loved texture, bruises, and discoloration
while I was smooth, absolutely bump free.

No patience left in him, he needed to gorge his hunger,
biting down and ripping it's other half trailed with a string of dripping saliva.

It wasn't a want, but a must.

Worms were wriggling out from the rotten core begging to escape from his monstrous pointed teeth.

He preferred them just the way they were, abandoned, unsure, insecure.

He however never preferred me; smothering myself of perfection to be picked from all hands who only ever picked the others...

Perfect apples can't always be picked up.

Smile.
I bet your aching gums would want that.
Flowers.
I bet your girl would adore them.
Breathe,
because I know you are dying to again.

"I see you in both ways-
not the optimist. He fails to choose naturally.

You are that one cake among the rest
that presents herself with multiple coats of frosting,
no one would dare cut you open after appreciating your beauty -
he's afraid to taste something suspicious."

I'm just a writer.

Nothing more, but never less.
I know my worth, while you ******* stretch.
I have the cards and I have the gun
you have no clue what distress can do.

Be my buddy or be muse
Just leave me alone
If you think I'll lick the blood from your rotten wounds.

It was a few weeks and we fell high in love
I sat and gazed while he took the plunge.
I loved whenever our hands interlaced,
just delicately resting on the same gun.