This is the year I'll try
to be brave
and stop running
I can't guarantee it'll work
I won't promise that I will
but I'll try
Try to let a boy in
I know it sounds cliché
but I need to let someone figure me out

A cold sore and a box of tampons
On the eve of new year's eve
Was my wake up call
a cosmic karma ***** slap if you will
A sign from the gods that there will be hell to pay
if I don't try to change my ways
Enough of the hunt and chase they say
for I've carpeted my dense forest
with all the maimed hearts from seven years
of a coquettish past

But how to change?
How does the hunter willingly become the hunted
to throw down one's crossbow and wait defenseless
I'm so good at what I do
How do I force myself to lose my self in order to stop the
vicious thing I've become

The Whole Foods vampire
Works behind the bread counter
I want to lick the flour dust
Off his ivory fingertips
And explore his body's every inch

I'd like to see that skin in the
moonlight
To see him really come alive
Reflecting the glimmer of pale life
That white can show on other white

I'd like to leave my marks all over him
Trace my desire upon his skin
Brush of red lipstick
Delicate pink scratches
Tender blue love bites

For a second he smiles at me
Like he's seen my whole fantasy
Then hands my sliced bread to me
And asks if that is all I need...

I like the ones with the devilish look to them
but you're seraphic even on your worst day

If you looked a tad bit naughty when being mischievous
instead of so ******* sweet
I think I'd fall harder for you
and faster than when Lucifer tumbled headlong from heaven

Like the morning star, I probably wouldn't have given a **** during the descent
Expecting the hurt when I hit
But loving every second of it
Since the pain was worth every ounce of the pleasure

I stare at the red on the floor
And I realize I love you more than
anything
I'd cover your veins if i could
To stop the metal you poke them
with
I wish I knew what made you hurt
So I could carve pieces of my heart
into little pills
And fill your bottles with them

Every time we're entwined
I know you wonder why I shut my
eyes
The truth is your love makes me feel
like I'm staring into the sun
It burns my nerves til I'm undone
and with no defenses left between
I shut them tight to avoid from being
seen

But you're the only boy I can't fool
and you must think me very cruel
when you ask me to look into your eyes
as you feel me from inside
but I simply cannot make love to you
when ******* is all I know how to do.

Two men have given me books in my lifetime... up to this moment. I wish more had. When I graze my fingers horizontally along the spines of each story shoved into my shelves only two books cause them to stop and linger. A book is such an underrated gift.
The first boy to give me a book knows a side of me that no one else does. I talk to him constantly despite the distance, yet I can't save him. He has an addictive personality. It's the drugs, it's the alcohol, it's the sadness, it's the tortured creativeness in him, it's the live life fast anarchism of **** the world. I've been careless with the book he gave me. It has sat neglected for a long time, I haven't even finished it. I've tried but I just can't get into it. The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, as you can tell from the title it is all about taking mad amounts of LSD while living during the 70s and following around a bunch of now famous bands and being wild and being untethered from social constraints. He gave me a piece of his freedom fetish that intimidates me because I know deep down that if we're together we'd tear through the world in a feverish pace. So fast that there's no way we could live a decent life without having burned up everything we could ever do that it'd have to die tragically and quickly.
The second boy gave me a bittersweet love story set in a world filled with magic. It's characters had tattoos of protection symbols, strange powers, and a girl in love with a boy who ****** her off but was gorgeous in a bad way. The boy who gave me this story hid behind his tattoos and made me promise to not fall in love with him during our first date. I read the novel nonstop and finished it two days later. He gave me the sequel with the stipulation that I give away these books whenever I was done with them to someone I thought would truly appreciate them. I cried after the second book and like the story's main characters we couldn't get pass our self-made obstacles to make our love work. For a year I refused to pass them on for it was one of the few things I had left of this boy. Until the day I sat by an army officer on the plane home and he was almost done with the first novel and I coincidentally had the second novel. It was just too coincidental to pass up on so I gave the man a story to carry with him. A story he didn't even know was deeper than the words on the pages. I still have the first book and always will just like the tiny, faint, tender pink scar he left in my heart.
**** diamonds, **** flowers, **** songs, **** baby animals, **** anything trivial you could ever give me as a girl. **** all that **** other women like. Give me a book, a story, a poem, a letter, and i'll remember you forever.