#ingenue
slide down the slope
of an ingénue —to just fine
I can run, but I can’t chase fulfillment
no amount of praise I collect
will fill the success-shaped hole in me
Nov 3, 2025
Nov 3, 2025 at 3:05 AM UTC
my body was once a temple to Daphne consecrated,
got razed by your sinful touch,
an ingenue bearing the grudge.
ephemeral eudaemonia, sempiternally anesthetized.
crimson substance will gush out from my lips,
running down my ******* and hips
it will splatter my ankles and thighs,
retracing the marks of the night you eroticized.
same old scars were once covered with epidermis,
petrichor smell, decorated with the salt of my tears.
backsliders will cry at my vault, murderers won't go to court;
left with a soul reduced to the coagulation of common thought.
Jan 9, 2025
Jan 9, 2025 at 10:51 AM UTC