🩶L🩶

🪽 I used to think I would tell stories But nobody cared for the stories I had

[decaying-angel1]

tangle your hands in my intestines,

rip away at my flesh snap my ribs into pieces,

play with the strings of my tissue

let the deep red soak your skin

take all of me,

all the way down to the bone.

graze your teeth on my marrow,

suck my blood and smile at the taste.

watch as my heart swells and stills,

hold it in your hand and feel it beating your name.

watch as i rise and fall into your warm embrace,

swallow my soul and exhale my breath.

pour me into your body,

together,

we can live in tranquil.

@tojiisadilf @breathinlove

[dim-stvrlight]

☁️ @decaying-angel1 ☁️

They say to be loved is to be known, but what is there to do when one feels neither loved nor known. When one tries their hardest to understand and accept someone for who they are, just to be met with a blank wall in place of their affections and left with a heart that bleeds forevermore. Love is not true. Love is a lie that is found in the writings of poets and authors who themselves long to be known, long to be understood. From a young age I was taught that love came in the form of aggression and violence, that love came from fathers with little girls that suffer by harsh words and false truths. Now, as I grow older, I realise that love comes in the form of hurt and suffering, that fathers with little girls can never truly love, can never truly see them. Love is a false hope that is taught by those who long for someone to know them and who they truly are. Love lies, it lies and afflicts hurt and hatred onto those who can only hope to be loved and seen for who they are, not who they appear to be.