I am a hot little dumpling of a woman, fragrant pillows, dimples— I am a sweet and steamy comfort, silky victuals, spiced and biblical, for a man of pow'rful hunger.
Did you ever pray to call me mine? Because, cara, I? I don't recall how many times I have tried To push us away As if my mind ever decided how my love swayed To save myself Even if my trials failed To lock my soul Though still indulge in your tainted fouls To pretend emotionless When I was bleeding with silenced howls I have attempted everything I could And after all I have prayed for us to be one Like icarus craving to be near the sun I have prayed to be held in your arms, when worn Protected by you from dusk till dawn I have prayed for my hopes to come real To engulf me in a warm blanket for many years And so I wonder If your efforts were just as painfully hopeful in time And Did you ever pray to call me mine?
It took me seven years to realise the words in my mind were too deep for my mouth to dig up I thought it was easier to open my skin and let the truth pour down my arms
It took me seven years to realise nobody should be allowed to touch parts of your home or hold pieces of your heart that you don't yet understand
It took me seven years to realise I will wear these scars forever I'll carry them through every smile every kiss every concerned gaze I'll carry them to my grave
It took me seven years to realise the pain carved into the walls of my castle etchings of attempting to disappear are not a story of weakness but a tale of how I survived