she is more iron than they . a wounded soul , crushed down by the society around of her . she wants ? she wants to be something . to be perfectly quiet , still alive / with no one pressing . how slow life is . how violent hope is . how strange they are . two very different worlds , fall out of love and she could have dreamed , of all those other lives . there isn’t enough holiness to go around in this place and the only source of light is coming from rotten factories with bleeding hearts ( she’s burned her hands saving them and kissed away the blood in alleyways with strangers ) . the world is not kind to women . it never has been .
if you tuck the name of a loved one under your tongue for too long without speaking it , it becomes blood . and she’s been spitting blood for longer than she’ll ever know ( you love her / you’ll never know it ) . the problem lately is that she is so alive . brilliantly so . she’s thinking of her . always . the end of the road always leads to her . to something soft and tender and she’s got bright eyes with a soft heart . the world tastes like blisters and blood , her hands clasped tight and knuckles bursting from her skin . timeless and loveless , the light touches her . she cannot sleep in her dreams . like everyone , she was took , taken and betrayed . darling please , my dearest evelyn . standing in the gates of eden , singing for salvation . touching the blade from a sword of fire and she’s unmade / undone ( no one will ever love her in the way she dreams she does ) .
and he presses a sweet kiss to her cheek , words whispered between cause and correlation . this isn’t the life she wants . he’s not what she wants . there’s someone inside of her , living and acting out her life . eventually , she holds two names to her chest . one to hold in her mouth and one to use as a gun . for in all defense , she’s ready to confess her sins . in another lifetime , maybe . but here and now ? she’ll let a thousand calendar days to waste pining with an unknown heart . there’s only one name . and it is not his .
joints ache , an overripe plum colored bruise kissed to her cheek bone and she wants no part of this desecration . but she is a woman and she does not get to choose . she could fall asleep aside her , but if she wakes / the light falls sinister against her skin . this version of herself is the easiest to swallow . the one made of lies and sin , but to her ? the only person she doesn’t wish to form lies against .
a fickle creature , learning by the worst example ( you’ll die for the girl who loves you ) . for even despite every pang and twinge in her body , she is still muted in her movement . how fragile they are , between the few good moments . and maybe , maybe one day she’ll learn ( you don’t notice until it is too late and she deserves more than that ) .
who is to say ? she would die for her .
where were you when i was still kind ? it catches in the back of her throat , poised in the window frame & she can almost convince herself that she’s a lover , a midnight tryst with a forbidden sweetheart . we could be . we should be . a ghost in a body , she’s soundless against the floor / a tender hand resting against the shoulder of her . ❛ henry said you wished to train ? ❜
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
annaxmalina
