my mother always warned me about drugs.

she always warned me what they could do and how they possibly could end your life

but mama never warned me about the one that had dark brown eyes and a heartbeat.

he smelt like cologne and regret
but tasted like cherries and cream
every time we kissed, i had a new memory

our first kiss.
eager lips and touching before he got me into bed, and took what was mine. i woke up with aching between my thighs as he told me he loved me while i laid there wrapped in silk.

our third kiss.
it was in a tour bus. everyone was loud, but i could still hear my heartbeat. his breath was shaky and i felt it on my lips before he pressed his on them. his brothers and friends cheered us on.

our eighth kiss.
this is where things got tricky. we didn’t kiss to love anymore, we kissed for lust. he stopped kissing me as an act of care and affection, but started as a way to make me beg for his touch. he knew how to get me eager and ready for him, and he took advantage.

our last kiss.
it was rainy, and i was sobbing as he screamed things that were aching my heart. he was walking out the door when i grabbed him and gave him a final kiss. that’s when i tasted the cigarette ash and liquor. something that tasted bitter.

he no longer tastes
like cherries and cream.

the devil with jet black hair and ink covering his arms and chest, i can still taste his serpent tongue like blood and cigarettes ash on the lips of any lover, and i cry tears of shame and regret.

dear lord, people tell me they want to hold
my body and protect me from him
but i don’t want them to hold me because their touch burns like acid

i heard he’s been on a liquor and pill diet
my lover always liked the pain
that’s why they called him the ******* after all.

she was listening to the songs he put on the playlist he made for her at 4:23am in an oversized *** pistols shirt, barefoot in the kitchen with tears streaming down her cheeks as her hips swayed, a white mug in between her palms as the dark black coffee fills the emptiness he left inside of her, and the clouds of light grey smoke fill the air and replaces the aching silence in her head.

cigarettes and black coffee as food for the ones hungry for love.

and i’m still waking every morning, but it’s not with you anymore.

i’m no longer waking up to smudged eyeliner and mascara, with an arm wrapped around my stomach, tugging my back closer to a chest as i hear steady breathing

it sounds calming when you say it like that
but if people only knew what happened an hour prior, they’d be calling it chaos and no longer ‘relationship goals’

relationship goals.
that’s what people called us.
but i don’t think endless fighting and make up *** could ever be relationship goals.

we showed everyone what we wanted them
to see, but behind closed doors
we were falling apart

i’m no longer going to sleep every night with ace bandages wrapped around my wrist and your warm breath going down my neck as you tell me it’s gonna be okay

i’m going to sleep with my cats and telling my nana that i’ll see her in the morning because i know for sure i will

i’m waking up with a smile on my face with my own embrace
i’m no longer waking up with heartbreak.

i always wake up and write at 4am, and how ironic that i started this at 4:44am.

you always told me that i needed to set a routine, and if i’m being honest with you, my routine had been demolished a long time ago when you decided to come in crashing.

the room is pitch black, but i can still see your face. i can see the galaxy in your eyes and the constellations running down your arms, chest and spine

did it hurt, my love? when the lord casted you out of heaven?

is this why you need to feel like a god? because he never let you be one?

you make my heart ache, and i feel your hands ****** and fussy in my guts that it makes me want to purge out acid. that’s all you’ve been making me want to do lately.

your name is shared with a gun
and i felt your bullet pierce my heart
the last time i said it.