dont hold a knife to my throat if you don’t intend to kill me.
that was what i meant to say, that day, when you told me about your family & your fears & your dreams about the future & you pressed the wrong side of the blade against my neck.
blood on the grass, blood on your cheek. i won’t tell you that you’re pretty. i know the song that you’re singing. i’ll hurt you back, i know it.
blood on the grass, blood on your teeth. you’ll tear at my heart but you won’t swallow it. im sick of the song that youre singing. i’ll hurt you back, goddamnit.
i keep chasing the crows away but they keep coming back. i’m a twitching body, still, but not quite a dead one yet. (i told you not to hold a knife to my throat if you don’t intend to kill me.) someone’s pressing their hand to my leaking faucet of a neck and im gurgling blood like a baby, im gurgling your name like a fool. i wont leave you my bones to come back to.
- (j)






















