i'm never gonna have that.
i'm going to have drunken kisses, private hand holding, secret, captive, solitary, messy, *****, abused love.

i'll never be the one worth loving out of chains and grim and empty streets. i'll be the one worth leaving. worth letting go. worth forgetting about.

because i'll only use your love to punish myself. to torture me in sweet painful affliction and no one wants to be my addiction. intoxicated by my love feels like a nightmare, alcohol poisoning, acid, a disguised medication... and i'll force you to love me like a rufie before the ****. you'll feel the threat of my intensity and conceal me in your darkness.

Hurt me. a *****, disgusting, morbid, *****. you can brand me in your cigarette ashes. tobacco flavored saliva can stain the space between my legs like a wet match trying to burn. you can mark me in your bad habits and dig your chemical colored fingerprints into my flesh and wound me to scratch away the lust you feel. at least my flesh will be touching yours under your ****** finger nails. you can give me your alcohol scented breath and breathe into me whatever you were trying to drink away. I'll keep it in between my stale lung cavities. You can touch me in the dark and neglect me in the day. Think of me when you take out the trash, flush the toilet, put your ***** *** soiled ******* in the wash...a temporary disgusting, filthy, nuisance that you can always dispose of.

i'm fine with that

because i'm not the kind someone wants to hold hands with in public. the kind to laugh with and admire the sparkle of magic in the depth of their eyes. the kind that someone could love without destruction, or thinking of leeches, heads in ovens, dim light, dark alleys, or rancid, rotting, smells that linger to stench the whole atmosphere.

i'm a morbid, dark, twisted, ****** up, ***** and when you say you love me...

i know you mean you love me like unreadable, scratched, handwriting fading into the cracks of a wood grain table.