These greedy men dig their hands into you like claws, searching for more than just skin. They’re grasping for crimson coloured fleshy bits and muscle to tear; they want to dismember you. clutching. fisting. death grip. These greedy men will look you dead in the eyes and ask audaciously,
I’m sad. “Go eat some chocolate darling” I can feel my heartbeat pumping through my chest. “Take a Xanax darling” I’m unsatisfied. “Just have another baby darling” I want to scream. “Don’t waste your energy darling” Is this a joke? “Women just aren’t funny darling” I’
Darling, let’s call a spade a spade shall we? This little life of ours is fleeting. I adore you, that much is true. But darling, I’ve endured violent hands throttle my neck. I’m still breathing They’ve cut me with sharp edges and scraped out my insides
Have you ever Crashed into someone heart first Converged ? A collision of violent ecstasy, heart pumping bones shattering teeth reduced to shards. The voices in the backseat never cease pleading: BRAKE! Only accelerating comes naturally. - She’s Burning
Every now and then he points out the red bull cans stacked high atop the grocery store shelf. His bright eyes stare into mine as he asks: “Is it true, does redbull really give you wings?” Perhaps he thinks once yours grow, you’ll fly straight over? We didn’t
So, you lick the wound this one last time. Like a discarded snack plate going to waste at that party you wish you'd left sooner. It tastes bitter. Unpalatable. It ceased nourishing you forever ago. You've been gorging on their leftovers, on your salty sadness. But
You say you love me. You just need time. Your indifference paints an uglier portrait. Something busted a deceptive mess. Do you want me? No. Your silence howls 'I DON’T WANT YOU BACK’. And I would have settled for a whisper. -She's Burning
You called me pretty. I played the cool girl, a constructed portrayal of mystery & inaccessibility. Did I make a mistake? Isn’t that what you wanted? A mere prop, a decorative ornament atop your bookshelf. Isn’t that what we both wanted? Sometimes I remember the heavy weight of
I dreamt of you last night. I was smiling over a witty text you'd sent. I woke up in a cold sweat, drenched as confusion ran laps inside my head. Wasn’t I supposed to be alone this year? Isn’t that what I wanted? I said it.
I’m not intriguing. I never consumed your thoughts. I’m not captivating. I never quite could keep you entertained. I’m not indecipherable. I never swept you up in my convoluted pages. I’m not harmonious. I’ll never be a song that gets stuck in your head. I
Do you really think I don't know how you see me? It's reflected in your searching eyes. You fell for the performance the masquerade. I despise the box you've forced me into. The stunningly retched. The opinionated modern whore who'd be more
But how would you feel if I flipped the narrative? What would you think if I spoke, never listened? Would it sting if I beat you to the punch? Every time. If Instead of you saying: 'I love you, ‘but fuck you're too much', I said: