ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʜᴜɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ
ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴏ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ
ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs
ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, sᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ
ᴀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅsᴛʀᴇᴀᴍ
ᴄʜᴇᴡs ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ
sᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ…
am i insane, stars?
i made exposed promises to you that i am far from keeping,
melted cosmos and calliope leaking from the corners of my eyes
as his fickle thought is ever missing from the warm embrace
that you provide, only for me to find out that it was just a lie.
flowers grow from my pink bones, the longer i starve myself
and soon enough i have a lithe bouquet with a pretty bow
thorns and boughs left in virgin snow, where heavy cherry
blossoms couldn’t hold out ’til spring to shake off the cold
like me. like me with my corrupted lungs and corrupted lovers
and mute corruption in my light, so much so that when it passes
through the stained glass windows of our unmarried chapel, all i see
is grey. and yet, i still pray. i still cast my bruised eyes to the ground
and wipe away the profanities from the corner of my mouth, where he
left them festering, evergreen, so sweet, bittersweet—where he never
was at all. but god, he didn’t cause this! i caused this, most this
lost this, i took the losing chance and loved until my bastard heart
choked with dopamine and plasticine and oxytocin and strychnine and
still…and still! it just wasn’t enough. no. all i could see is the faint outline
of his hands and his cloying laughter and his blurry eyes so blue you’d
have thought an ocean was trapped beneath it. i would know. i would
have drowned. maybe i’ll still have drowned. i’m already drowned.
skin. finite. nothing. the current that carried souls along to solace
love in the time of scarlet fever, and him, and him, and you? and you.
nothing more. nevermore. neverwhere. we’re all here, now.
so tell me this, stars. am i insane? or am i just too human for my own good?
ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ
‘ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ɪᴛ
ɪ’ᴍ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴏғ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs
ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ
ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏ ɪ, ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ…