Sometimes you meet someone and even though you
never liked brown eyes before, their eyes are your favourite colour now
and sometimes you meet someone who can make the
sickest addictions seem beautiful and sometimes
there’s some people you’d rather sit on a couch with
and drink some gas station coffee and read your favourite
books over and over while you forget that dinners on the stove
so it gets burned but you still think it’s delicious anyway.
I hope your hands wander like
your thoughts —
so when they wrap around
they will entangle
“You are so beautiful,” he says again.
And, she trembles with anxiety
as his eyes slide down her body —
traveling the curves of her skin
until they halt at the marks that
round the inside of her thighs.
I am not so beautiful now, am I? She thinks.
Not when I am marred by these jagged
marks of imperfection and self loathing.
She looks away, unable to meet his gaze —
embarrassed until she feels his lips press against the
stretched white stripes of her inner thigh.
“You really are a tiger —
fiercely breathtaking and unique —
with the most beautiful stripes
I have ever seen.”
He kisses the marks again.
I am suddenly overcome with the desire
to walk about this city
at night —
hand in hand
with you —
so we may listen to the
stars kiss the night
[AGGRESSIVELY WANTS TO KISS YOU A LOT]
I thought you would chance it,
but then again,
your shy hesitation
has allowed us
to exchange a thousand kisses
with nothing but our eyes —
while our lips and hands
tremble in anticipation.
I can not love you —
I do not want to hurt you.
you flatter yourself, my dear —
to think that I have enough heart
left in me to give to you. How can I
when I have barely enough
broken pieces to love myself?
I don’t want you to
fall for me.
it’s not my heart you need to worry about —
what a fool I had been
to believe —
even for a second —
that I was lovable.
I am a tragic cliche;
one man breaks my heart,
and all after him must suffer for it.