my love is a double-edged sword screaming “**** me harder” until your great great great grandmother’s ears bleed. I’m sitting in the shade of a tree outside your college campus and even though the weather is nice I can’t stop thinking about dying. I watch as a little quail barely ducks out of the way of some ******* driving a little white Honda civic and at first I feel irrationally ******* that they were driving so fast in a ******* parking lot but that little white civic makes me think of my mother before the drugs rotted what was left of her brain. and I start laughing because it is just so ******* funny to me the way birds look when they run and the way someone looks when they’re high for the first time. I don’t think birds were made to run though, and I don’t think my mother was made to fly. there’s something about watching the person who brought you into this world take themselves out of it. I can’t tell you what it is but there’s something, it’s something with claws and razor-sharp teeth and nothing but jagged edges, it’s something that tears you apart from the inside out. an addict is always an addict, it doesn’t matter if they’ve been sober for ten years or ten days and I know that it is only a matter of time before she leaves again and I’m trying so hard not to spend this time hating her but it’s so hard to love someone who does nothing but lie. I’ve never known my mother the way I know hurt; I know more about broken hearts than I do my mother’s hobbies but it’s made me who I am, I guess. I don’t know how to cook the man I love breakfast but I do know where to cut him open, I know where the weakest points on a person are, I know how to hide mine. I know more about holding knives than I will ever know about holding a lovers hand and if you asked me what love is five years ago I would tell you a never ending fist fight, but now that I’m older I know that sometimes a hand on your cheek doesn’t have to be soft for it to feel like a kiss and that’s not always bad. you have to be careful when ******* me, there is something evil inside of me just waiting for someone to light the fuse. if you find your way too deep inside of this broken body you’ll be able to see where it hurts the most, my darkness will surround you like the dead sea. I will teach you a whole new meaning to the word “envelope”, I will draw you closer and closer until you don’t have to think twice about letting me eat you alive. you will never hit me or **** me hard enough, but your soft caress is what scares me the most. I want to be loved in the same way my mother loved heroine. I want you to need me, I want to ruin your life. I want to put my blood in all of the places you are hurt, I want to stitch up your every wound with my baby hairs. I want you to never get tired of the way I taste. I want you to crave my flesh from the grave. I’m going to practice necromancy and get so good that when I die, I’ll be able to put my skeleton back together long enough to come find you. and when I do, I will lay down softly beside you and finally put these bones to rest. in hundreds of years when archaeologists or aliens dig up our grave, they won’t be able to tell my femur from your tibia or my mandible from your vomer. I wish we would be able to see the looks on their faces when they try to figure out what the **** we are, I know you’d make the best jokes. I can only imagine all of the crazy things they would come up with. I can see our skeleton being the scientific mystery of the century, and I would wish I would be able to knock one of those future scientists on the head with my funny bone and say “hey *******, we were once two people in the living world but I loved him so much that our bones fused together into one, it’s really not that hard” I’d take a deep breath (even though I don’t have lungs) and continue, “the after life probably isn’t real and you guys probably figured that out ages ago but at least me and him are spending eternity together in some way, even if we have no consciousness to comprehend it. do you guys have soul mates here in the 29th century? have you guys cracked the code on love? do you know why that happens? can you explain why sometimes we fall in love with people who don’t love us back? can you explain to me why my mother fell so deeply in love with drugs?” and then you would probably have to come and drag me back to our crypt so that I didn’t ramble myself into a second (or third?) death. I don’t know if soul mates are real and I’m only one tiny speck of a girl, but if I could I would put my hand in your throat, wiggle my whole arm down into your esophagus and through your ribcage until I found your soul, and then I would pull it out so that I could softly kiss it and then put it back, or maybe I’d run away with it and never come back and you would search the earth for me endlessly, wandering around in circles, not knowing what you’re looking for but not being able to stop. every time you smile at me I have to look away so I don’t throw my heart up into your lap. I don’t know much about love but I do know that I’d gouge my eyeballs out if I could never see yours again, and I still don’t know that much about soul mates but I’m pretty sure that you’re mine and if there’s really a God I hope he’s not too big of a **** and made me yours, too.