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#comphet
goodbye, little lamb you've been cooked into the oil of ***** words, so bland they burn and rot your meat. "dinner's ready" he says. i say my prayer "in the name of innocence." the latter a word so hard. but i get it, i see it when she runs in my black and white visual field. but the bland white boy cooked the little lamb - burned her. goodbye, little lamb.
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Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 6:33 PM UTC
restandpeace
in the name of innocence
goodbye, little lamb you've been cooked into the oil of ***** words, so bland they burn and rot your meat. "dinner's ready" he says. i say my prayer "in the name of innocence." the latter a word so hard. but i get it, i see it when she runs in my black and white visual field. but the bland white boy cooked the little lamb - burned her. goodbye, little lamb.
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18
it has been years since she learned how to make peace with her high school crush on you until it no longer stung but you still talk every now & then, and every now & then she still finds herself quietly slipping in a flirtatious joke or two playfully, discreetly, framed like a tease but the undertones are simply left unsaid, tucked away like your little secret today she dates a man, long-term and loving, yet she knows she still does it to you every now & then just to feel something again even if it meant feeling 15 years old again, in her pinafore and bata sneakers with her painfully simplistic understanding of love to her, women are beautiful but impossibly out of reach - she is at peace having her daydreams about them from afar she panics at the thought of actual reciprocation; internalizing past heartbreaks had taught her that she was unwanted attractive only through the shattered lens of the male gaze, she comes to believe tenderness is something one must be deserving of her younger uninhibited self escapes once more every now & then - it's harmless, she tells herself, she only flirts with you for fun she knows all the old poems she wrote you have been shelved away in her archives to gather dust but years pass and she learns to truly stifle the yearning, to bury the lines between platonic/romantic love in a pit to lay flowers atop yet it was in a new flame she found that same tenderness in, this time navigating unfamiliar spaces between admiration/attraction quietly and unassumingly it burned in one-sided flickers until it eventually fizzled out in smoke when they moved 2 hours away but from the smoke arose a lingering longing for the same thrill of the playful back-and-forth, sneaking glances like a secret alone, she slowly understands what she had not known before, piecing her feelings together as a sexually confused dr.frankenstein little weeds started to bloom once more in the backyard, until she heard from a friend of a friend that they were back in town again after a long year spent coming to terms with herself, her mind wanders to what if they had never gone / if they stayed all along birds whispered that there was more to the story than she knew, but she knows she wanted there to be something more or was it just the copious amounts of self-deluded coping mechanisms she surrounded herself with to forget? perhaps she hoped the pining might lead her someplace exciting, where she could give in and let them lead the way across for once but temptation risks stepping into the unfamiliar and she seems content not wanting to let go of the comforts of speculation, fantasy even more so, how could she know what a woman's reciprocity looked like if she had never been subject to it before?
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Nov 25, 2021
Nov 25, 2021 at 1:21 PM UTC
s3e
oh no she likes another giiirlllllll
it has been years since she learned how to make peace with her high school crush on you until it no longer stung but you still talk every now & then, and every now & then she still finds herself quietly slipping in a flirtatious joke or two playfully, discreetly, framed like a tease but the undertones are simply left unsaid, tucked away like your little secret today she dates a man, long-term and loving, yet she knows she still does it to you every now & then just to feel something again even if it meant feeling 15 years old again, in her pinafore and bata sneakers with her painfully simplistic understanding of love to her, women are beautiful but impossibly out of reach - she is at peace having her daydreams about them from afar she panics at the thought of actual reciprocation; internalizing past heartbreaks had taught her that she was unwanted attractive only through the shattered lens of the male gaze, she comes to believe tenderness is something one must be deserving of her younger uninhibited self escapes once more every now & then - it's harmless, she tells herself, she only flirts with you for fun she knows all the old poems she wrote you have been shelved away in her archives to gather dust but years pass and she learns to truly stifle the yearning, to bury the lines between platonic/romantic love in a pit to lay flowers atop yet it was in a new flame she found that same tenderness in, this time navigating unfamiliar spaces between admiration/attraction quietly and unassumingly it burned in one-sided flickers until it eventually fizzled out in smoke when they moved 2 hours away but from the smoke arose a lingering longing for the same thrill of the playful back-and-forth, sneaking glances like a secret alone, she slowly understands what she had not known before, piecing her feelings together as a sexually confused dr.frankenstein little weeds started to bloom once more in the backyard, until she heard from a friend of a friend that they were back in town again after a long year spent coming to terms with herself, her mind wanders to what if they had never gone / if they stayed all along birds whispered that there was more to the story than she knew, but she knows she wanted there to be something more or was it just the copious amounts of self-deluded coping mechanisms she surrounded herself with to forget? perhaps she hoped the pining might lead her someplace exciting, where she could give in and let them lead the way across for once but temptation risks stepping into the unfamiliar and she seems content not wanting to let go of the comforts of speculation, fantasy even more so, how could she know what a woman's reciprocity looked like if she had never been subject to it before?
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22