I love the control
of painting my forearm
with swollen ribbons
imprinted on skin.
They tingle when hidden
begging to be exposed to sparkles
of a sun.
Like the little creature living inside
my heart.
A nightingale
with daggers for wings
slicing into my liver
singing her song
which goes “the end –
the end is coming,
– the end –
the end is near.”
And I’ll hold her close at dawn
singing our song;
just two kindred spirits
waiting to die alone.
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 12:15 AM UTC
I love the control
of painting my forearm
with swollen ribbons
imprinted on skin.
They tingle when hidden
begging to be exposed to sparkles
of a sun.
Like the little creature living inside
my heart.
A nightingale
with daggers for wings
slicing into my liver
singing her song
which goes “the end –
the end is coming,
– the end –
the end is near.”
And I’ll hold her close at dawn
singing our song;
just two kindred spirits
waiting to die alone.
when I think about my future, I see blood. But mostly, it's just...dark. pretty ******* horrible imo