sometimes i think of myself as an angel in the bathtub
a hazy, glowing figure
beautiful beyond mortal comprehension
so that their faces turn to stone
perhaps that's my excuse for why they don't look at me

but you looked at me
and let me float in the steamy stuff of fantasy
yet it all condensed to the end

when it flows again it shall be with my tears

Hold me at the tip of your tongue
And speak not, intimately
In suspension of that trembling scaffold
Lest it crush our unsaid space

Touch me the right way
And say the wrong nothings
That in ambivalence I may stray
To some mistaken grace

**** me over in your dream,
Lay me out, exposed,
And carry out your shrouded theatre
Recompense for your absence in mine

And gently, in your tangled strings of pathos
Tie me at the cusp of your love

you made me miss the train in my dream: my fault for staring so long
i walked home alone that day, in the rain
singing some stupid tune to myself

did you think of me?
sitting there in contemplation, aside those ever-clear windows
did you look for me?
like i look for you in the morning commute and math before recess and anywhere everywhere in that sprawling liar we call memory

i know you didn't
but truly, it's fine
you will someday
when i muster up my courage and take that big leap

yes, w.

i would leap in front of a train if it meant you looked at me for just one second

or at least i would in the dream

but really, i'm so scared
scared of your acknowledgement, scared of your indifference
scared of your love, scared of your hatred
most of all scared that i might die without you ever having cared

so i wait and ponder and rot away
and course toward that cruel fate i so dread
such is reality

but not my fantasy:

w., i hope i get hit by a train in your dream

WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT

in crimson breath i draw your image,
ruby rogue, apple temptation.
temptation, yes temptation.
GOD
I want to swallow you whole
and keep you in the pit of my stomach
I want to rip your skin open
and see your true face
I want to fuse my soul with you
even if it stains me red

Dear Rogue, come ****** my heart out
thief that you are, of my innocence
and my days of apathy
Color me, even in blood
For I would rather bear your mark
than remain an empty canvas

Dear Rouge, know you are the apple of my eye,
the source of my passion,
the greatest possession I have known.
Your image lingers,
I cannot resist.

I do not want to resist.

I want to float awash in your torrent.
And lose myself in it.
Cast my visage off like skin,
that we may be naked and kindred in exposure.
And hungry, still.
That we may devour each other.
Consume each other.
Consummate each other.

I want to **** your cherry.
Bad metaphor, I know, but such are the workings of passion.

I want to want.
And I want to want more. To covet.
For you I would sin and burn in elation.

So, R., what would you do for me?

I want you to steal my heart and claw it open till it bleeds a sea of rouge