it's very simply put: "it's not you, it's me." and it's true, i fear loving more than i do less. i fear using my half to fill their whole. i don't want the only one with a collar around their neck to be me.
belonging to someone doesn't sound so bad when they belong to you too.
“i love your neck,” he whispers as his hand curls around the pale flesh delicately. careful not to bruise in places easily seen. “i love your neck,” he whispers kissing the bruises he left behind. red, purple, yellow decorating it like a necklace. “i love your neck,” he says gripping it tightly as he thrusts deeper in your body. your breath is caught in your throat, you struggle to breathe. “i love your neck,” he says pushing you against the wall- bruises are a normal sight, it doesn’t scare you anymore, not to breathe. “i love your neck” he says as he leads you to the scaffold. you think of the blade at your neck and wonder if it loves yours too.