The disposable razor, judders
across unshaven skin and sprouting
hair is defeated, left to sink into the
drain and far away from me.
This I do for you.
On goes the shampoo, the conditioner,
the body lotion (with that sweet fresh smell),
the liquids streaming off of me with
a scent I know well.
It's the scent of the night before.
The day before you and I choose
each other, once again
to spread laughter and
cure boredom.
It is for this that I bear this small
portion of self mutilation.
The hair is then burnt, or brushed or
bent, as I twist it round resisting
bristles.
All done in case you wish to nestle there.
An outfit is chosen, discarded, then re-picked to a constant monologue:
RedNOworethatonelasttime...OH GOD WHERE IS IT fuckbloodypooandAAAH,
perhapssomepurpleTHATONEnodoesn'tgononoNoNONOONOO blahblahblah.
(well, you get what I mean)
(If not...damn. Just me then?)
It's all for you.
Colours smeared onto face,
flowers pierced into skin,
eyelashes lengthened,
the trace of muscles etched into
willing legs and abs...
This I do for you.
And it's worth it, though you'll never quite know
the effort with which it takes,
to replace a sleep deprived villain with a semi
attractive teen. You'll never know,
but it's worth it.
"You look nice today"
is enough to make me quietly
preen
for hours with joy.
A look of appreciation as
you nuzzle in can make the
pain of straighteners and razors
scorch into unyielding flesh.
A kiss on the neck
which has been foundationed
and sculpted for your enjoyment
enough to make me arch like
a swan.
It's enough.
So, this I do for you.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
The disposable razor, judders
across unshaven skin and sprouting
hair is defeated, left to sink into the
drain and far away from me.
This I do for you.
On goes the shampoo, the conditioner,
the body lotion (with that sweet fresh smell),
the liquids streaming off of me with
a scent I know well.
It's the scent of the night before.
The day before you and I choose
each other, once again
to spread laughter and
cure boredom.
It is for this that I bear this small
portion of self mutilation.
The hair is then burnt, or brushed or
bent, as I twist it round resisting
bristles.
All done in case you wish to nestle there.
An outfit is chosen, discarded, then re-picked to a constant monologue:
RedNOworethatonelasttime...OH GOD WHERE IS IT fuckbloodypooandAAAH,
perhapssomepurpleTHATONEnodoesn'tgononoNoNONOONOO blahblahblah.
(well, you get what I mean)
(If not...damn. Just me then?)
It's all for you.
Colours smeared onto face,
flowers pierced into skin,
eyelashes lengthened,
the trace of muscles etched into
willing legs and abs...
This I do for you.
And it's worth it, though you'll never quite know
the effort with which it takes,
to replace a sleep deprived villain with a semi
attractive teen. You'll never know,
but it's worth it.
"You look nice today"
is enough to make me quietly
preen
for hours with joy.
A look of appreciation as
you nuzzle in can make the
pain of straighteners and razors
scorch into unyielding flesh.
A kiss on the neck
which has been foundationed
and sculpted for your enjoyment
enough to make me arch like
a swan.
It's enough.
So, this I do for you.
Spent tonight getting ready for seeing my guy tomorrow :) Shower is messed up so can't be used...am currently using the sink and ended this night/morning by shivering in the bathroom, holding a cup of hot(ish) water and feeling my cut legs bleed that little bit more...and laughed a little xD Partially because it's Friday and I am semi-delusional with lack of rest, but also...because it's worth it. He wouldn't care if I didn't do this, but I'll never tire of that look of surprised appreciation.
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