better. emotion stabbed at me relentlessly, it was hard and translucent and stubborn. if it is an intrinsic human trait to feel so inferior, I want to drag knives over my skin just so I can feel something other than Shame.

sin city, streets in smoke a-bustling
neon lights atop, flickering
devil in the shadows
gazes locked, heart strings tugged
she wanted him to steal her breath
skirting around corners and
stumbling into his intoxicating embrace
he tasted of a tender, poignant romance meant
to devastate her heart
yet is it theft when the target parades herself
to catch the eye of the hunter?

whisky breath, stone cold sober
coffee skin under plain white cotton
soft flesh glazed with callouses all over
but his soul steady, untainted

he was raised among wolves
with no taste for romance; he knows this as well as he knows his own name
his love, his methods
brutal, rough, and explicit
reeking of bad habits and good intentions

(do not) listen
when he bellows past midnight on a moonless night
he comes undone
like a wire, exposed
trembling sparks of his ruthlessness embeds into your skin

the blinds are drawn and the wind chime sways
faint street light seeps into the room
his fiery eyes and strong jaw betray no sign of vulnerability
yet he is longing, demanding
for you to tuck him softly in the crook of your neck

open up to the east and west
he feasts boldly on his willing prey, devouring
deeply in its absolute rawness
chills travel up and down your spine
unforgettable like vocals of a singer’s hypnotic raspy voice
you want to be his favourite hiding place

he was raised among wolves,
dreaming under the midnight sun with eyes wide open
golden rays enshrouding him in a world outlined in black
rewriting the definitions of love, and he
won’t let anyone steal who he is meant to be.

you ******, and i flew
why did you leave without warning
irreparable, i
shut the world out
and so we have not spoken
for three hundred and sixty-five days
how are you,
and how
did we end up like this
i cannot forgive you
yet i cannot forget
the days spent on cloud nine
nor the affliction when I am withdrawn from you
maybe, just maybe
turn back the time
and let me do it all over again
let hatred be lost, let agony be abandoned
and let me do what I should have done
three hundred and sixty-five days ago

I used to think
that saying ‘I love you’ was overrated,
that if you say it too often it would eventually
lose its meaning

Then I fell in love,

and discovered how these simple words
could mean so much
in so many different ways
and it scares me how I panic
when I don’t hear you say that
you love me
not because I don’t trust you,
but somehow there is an inexplicable feeling inside me
that leaves me unsettled.