it was the way he glowed
lit up entire street blocks as he walked
like he’d swallowed a million fireflies
and let them loose every time he opened his mouth
to speak
and devour your heart




it was the way he looked at you
like you were something real
like you were something beautiful

you aren’t, you try to tell him. tell him a million times, never tell him enough.

“That’s just the skin I wear.”

he must see that
(that you are a wretched thing, built sharp and toxic
that the blood doesn’t wash off your hands anymore
that he should be as far from you as he can get)


he must be blind you think
or stupid
but nobody’s ever made your heart skip like he did





it was the way he touched you
slow and soft
more like bruised fruit than
the knife that you were

you warned him that he would cut himself doing that
your skin was not meant to touch
but he still kissed your ****** lips
and held your treacherous hands
like things that were made for something so tender
such as love





you tell him that you are not

something living and breathing
something warm and glowing and beautiful
something human
something like him

but that boy
he loves you
he’d love you for anything


you love him too