he discards people like soiled tissues
one corpse after the next
when he finishes them off
on his bed
on the corner street
in his car
he has carved danger
and high voltage
on the inside of his wrists
but people fall in love
with the lethal glimmer of flesh
that peaks between his storm-cut teeth
she’s a goddess before she is a wife
with the appetite of the divine
as big as a million suns
they named her jealousy
with a tongue that is a dagger
that leaks ichor
that sharpens
that stains
with every explicit bruise she leaves
on the ego of men that stay out of her heart
but come to her bed
waiting for velvet kisses
on milk-painted spines
overpriced boat shoes and
a smile like a loaded gun
with an attitude that says
he can get away with everything
and a conscience that can barely stand himself
sometimes he stands on the shore
waiting
thinking
wishing
wanting
for the sea to devour him
faked passports and an instagram profile
that shows Hungary
Sweden
Romania
and iPhone playlists
talking about summer kisses and
thieves of love
a lucid illusion
dreamesque escapism
from a life not meant
for half-strung truths and swallowed lies
hands stained with all dirty things
like
oil and grease and blood
an affection to slash someone’s throat
but the tenderness to kiss morning dew from
rose petals
he longs for love
as if it is the noose around his neck
waiting to choke the life out of him
while he burns
from the inside out
she falls in love as if it could save her
lips painted blue
one boy in her heart
one in her mind
and a girl between her thighs
it’s a comedy play
sixteen performers ready on the sidelines
waiting to use her
waiting to be used
to choke any self-hatred
and the toxic need for love
she had
he’s the patron saint of lost youth
the one parents warn you about
with a smile made to hurt and
eyes made to soften up
sometimes he tries to remember
so many things at once
that they all become a violence-filled blur
until nothing remains
than the aching echo of a heartbeat
she bakes cookies on Sundays
for charity bazaars
that raise money for orphans and the homeless
because she can feel their misery
as if it was her own
she has always felt part human
part witch
waking at dawn
with stardust smothering her face
five stolen kisses and a bottle of Merlot
in the back alley behind some cheap Greek pub
that reeked of weed
eyelashes that spell teenage tragedy
in capital letters over glass-cut cheekbones
he lives every excess to the fullest
sore
but aching
begging
for more
sometimes she stares blankly at the moon
and waits for the ache to get shorter every day
the wailing trees have ripped
edges and sutures at her skin
gutted open her heartbeat
trying to make her a synonym for
bulletproof
sometimes she stares hopefully at the moon
and realizes she despises love
and what it made of her
he left too many people spent on sheets
too many people
broken with skin aflame
and burnt to flesh and bones
too many chalk outlines
that wanted to touch the sun
but burst into a gout of flames
too many bodies
that he tore apart
just to feel again
she was once a dying thing
something rotten made of staggered moments
something lonesome
not meant to survive
before she became a mother
the steel in her bones came with the first breath
of another human being
carefully cradled in
the nestled home
of a cinnamon-flavoured
tightly-knit
love
she has eyes the colour of falling leaves
there is a waxing moon between her teeth
that turns martyrs into saints
and saints into sinners
while she punishes
men into submission
like the jagged piece of deadened metal
and no matter how much men have wanted her
they will never taste the secrets
of her skin
he’s made of soft hands
and a heart that is too fragile
for a boy that is constantly intimate with death
gasoline around his collar
and the smell of freedom safely tucked
between the seams of his leather jacket
at night he tries to remember the last time
he felt whole
he can’t
when she was a little girl
her mother used to tell her stories about strength
about girls that were the dragon
instead of the princess in distress
about girls that were boys
and that fought in binders and revolutions
about girls that looked up to the sky
and saw the stars opening their throats
one by one
about girls that deserved to be loved
without honeyed words or uncomfortable violence
about girls like her
janainaart
theartofmadeline
origamiaround
germansingergirl
yousharknotpass
ellievsbear
jbbartram-illu
