i'm in love with words and commas

words, not because there are so many tucked beneath my tongue

and poems, not because they paint my mind with storms and wars

but because they fill the air with the sweetest smell

and they’re so pretty when they dance

and they’re so empty.

baby girl, watch out for sharp boys,
they won’t leave you until you’re bleeding.

“run your fingers against my skin,
don’t be scared, baby girl.”

be scared,

be gentle.
hold onto him;

my body is a currency,
so pay me in ******* and self-esteem.

and i’ve got skin made of gold,
and a fetish for broken boys.

soft boys,
lust boys.

i’ll have you at the brink of a cliff,
your hand in mine, and i'm pushing you off.

and i am not made of gold, but shards of glass.
and i am not in love with you,
but the thought of breaking you.

i want to love you without giving you a piece of me.
my hands are tired, stained with blood,
and i’m running footless trying to catch up with you.
but i keep carving; parts of my heart, smiles into my face.

you scare me of love. you scare me of what you can do,
what the perfect poison
can do in the perfect hands of the perfect girl.
but baby girl, i would chug poison for you.

your hands are so *******

soft

gentle

small

and you’re holding mine, guiding me

guiding a perfectly carved blade into my heart

because love,
you are a double-edged sword and i want you to
abuse my love until i am
your bloodied masterpiece.

i could easily kiss his forehead all day because he looks softer than chocolate.

i could easily

forget how sharp his fingers are,

and hold him because he curls in on himself when i touch his cheek.