i can tell he’s mine because he whispers my name every night just before he falls asleep.
you touch me just right and change my definition of holy.
desire is such an ugly thing. pure want disguised in wandering fingertips, fingers laced in hair, and glazed over eyes.
i was born with half a soul. the other half is nestled in your chest.
i’m losing myself. can’t you tell?
it feels like i’ve lived three and a half lives since yesterday.
i feel new. and fresh. and pure. and god it feels fleeting.
all that changed this year was my temper. i am now always terribly angry.
i am completely fine cleaning up my own mess.
i came home with blood on my hands and you were terrified of what i’d done to someone. it never occurred to you that the blood on my hands was my own.