I have never once liked him.
I have lusted for him, and I have desired to hurt him.

I have never once loved him,
but oh, how he has haunted me in my daydreams.

He either deserts me or envelops me at night.

I would move close to him in the early morning,
give him a solitary kiss on the forehead,
on his arm, on his chest;
wherever I felt he would let me touch without pushing my lips away.

He would grip me from behind,
roll us over and kiss me only to get inside of me.

At one point, I thought this was the same thing.

He calls me mystery, wild child, baby blue.

He is turning me into an apology of this girl.

I am baby blood lust.

there was a time that I were blue

and when I met you, you were red

you touched my heart and I turned magenta

then one day you decided

that magenta didn't suit you

I take a deep breath and pause for thought

with a tiny smile and my eyes closed

I know that if I open them, I'll see myself

and there is nothing that I hate more.

you'll never realise how toxic the air around you is

until you stick your head out of the window

something I've never understood is how it's the saddest people that think the most beautiful thoughts

why is it that
even with the bleariest eyes, the most grainy minds

I find myself wide awake

owl-eyed at 4am

high on the thought of you, sweetheart.

one day you'll meet a person wearing an orange shirt

and even though you used to hate orange

now you find yourself noticing that it has become the colour of your world.