Girls like me are so hot
We are the sun burning into oblivion
Causing fires in the sky of your sheets
We're ghosts with beating hearts
Our minds concrete fires,
Wordless books, eroding cliffs.
All the things you started but could never finish.

Girls like me, we're unattainable.
You can only pretend you had us.
If only for a second before we disappear.
Moving like quicksand through your fingers.
Leaving you grasping at the air for nothing.
You'll wonder if your imagination
Struck cruel again.

Our lips won't offer you salvation.
You won't find peace in our bodies.
We kiss with scarred knuckles
We do not love gently, if we love at all.
You can hold us tightly but we won't break
Girls like me are made of marble;
Not even fire can **** us.

Us hurricane girls are the devils delight.
We consume souls with delicate fingers.
Nails red and perfectly manicured to a point.
Our lips plush; the taste of cherry and blood.
We paint our desires on our fingertips
Leaving traces of them on everything we touch
We're disasters but we're oh so beautiful

I want the kind of love
That's quiet

Quiet like tea and a blanket in the morning

I want a love that's soft
That's honest and deep and true
That's always there

Love that's not for show
Or for power
But love simply because love is felt

I want a love that accepts and encourages
I want a love that embodies peace

I never told my mother about you
I knew it would be ******* her
And even harder on me
So I just never told her

But sometimes I would feel sad
Because something reminded me of you
And I would get up and go to the bathroom
Because I couldn't cry in front of her

She has no idea the hurt I was in
She has no idea the pain I endured
She has no idea what I had so
She has no idea what I lost

But a song will come on
While we are riding in the car
And my eyes start tearing up
And I can't tell her why
And she feels so bad she starts to cry

I've given so many excuses
Allergies, the wind, an eyelash
And even though she doesn't believe me she doesn't pressure
Because she understands the truth must be too painful for her ears
{bcg}

When deep breaths won't work
And you're trembling from the fear
Don't you dare shed tears

I'm damaged goods.
the mail-in rebate you'll never quite get around to sending.
rather you neatly sit it atop your chestnut coffee table, politely acknowledge it's existence, and try to remember to buy postage stamps for an envelope you believe you will mail.
you won't.
you will ignore it.
just as you have ignored me.
legs crossed, sitting atop the coffee table we never bothered to buy, scraped knees and insecurities that you have tried your best to deny.
the mail in rebate will one day expire.
I pray that I will not.