and you realize the one person in the world who loves you
isn’t the one you thought it would be,
and you don’t trust him to love you in a way
you would enjoy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way is filthy.
And the boy who loves you the wrong way keeps weakening.
You thought if you handed over your body
he’d do something interesting.
—Richard Siken, from A Primer for the Small Weird Loves (via allthereisiswhatyousee)
I wake up and my hands are on fire. I wake up and you are on flames.
the ceiling is dripping water, it smells of rotting meat
but let’s not stay here, let’s go somewhere else
the mirrors are covered and our feet are biting glass
You say something but your words garble,
you say something but the words fall out of your mouth,
you say something but I can’t hear you so I press my fingers into yours and hope its not important
(but it is, it always is)
I forget to look at faces but I remember the knots on your shoes
I go to sleep and I don’t wake up,
I go to sleep and I’m covered in dirt,
I go to sleep and all I dream of is you
I go to sleep but you are not a nice man.
you hollow out my hungry heart
but how much untill nothing’s left?
These are the dreams we should be having. I shouldn’t have to
clean them up like this.
You were lying in the middle of the empty highway.
The sky was red and the sand was red and you were wearing a brown coat.
There were flecks of foam in the corners of your mouth.
The birds were watching you.
Your eyes were closed and you were listening to the road and I could
hear your breathing, I could hear your heart beating.
I carried you to the car and drove you home but you
weren’t making any sense
I took a shower and tried to catch my breath.
You were lying on top of the bedspread
in boxer shorts, watching cartoons and laughing but not making any sound.
Your skin looked blue in the television light.
Your teeth looked yellow.
Still wet, I lay down next to you. Your arms, your legs, your naked chest,
your ribs delineated like a junkyard dogs.
There’s nowhere to go, I thought. There’s nowhere to go.
You were sitting in a bathtub at the hospital and you were crying.
You said it hurt.
I mean the buildings that were not the hospital.
I shouldn’t have mentioned the hospital.
I don’t think I can take this much longer.
In the dream I don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap.
so he says he can’t get enough, and that there are gaps where he can’t reach
and you don’t say he filled the spaces between your head, and his tongue is like poison and his words are like stars
and they are gas chambers, and you are kneeling with your arms crossed behind your back
and you don’t think, you are all the same loud enough for him to hear
but it hangs there like smoke twisting, it seeps into the clothes on your back, and you think of gashes breaking open on the skin of your shoulder blades
and you want to hurt, and you want to bleed, and bruises feel brighter than the bitterness you see in the creases of your eyes.
you are a list of everything everyone has made you, and the ink has not dried, and the ink is bleeding through the paper but it still doesn’t tear
it starts like this, you are tired, and you are weak, and a knife is better when its held with warm skin, and wounds are better with a hand that is not yours.
it starts like this, his breath on your cheek is wet and damp and you think of bright peals of flesh falling off your bones.
squealing tires and the flash of metal in the sunlight, you think of rubber tipped shoes and drowning in drain water
you think of breaking bone, and hospital beds and the bandages you hide in corners of your room like an alcoholic hides his drink.
you think of all that, and more, and-
you think you’ll take this over everything else.
(because for now, its better.)
so he says that he loves you, and it feels like a death sentence
he puts the tip in your mouth and says suck
she puts her fingers between your lips and you nip it with your teeth
so you pull that first drag in with the slow arch of your tongue and press yourself down wafer thin and quiet
you say you want to leave, but he takes away your shoes
you say you have to go but she breathes into your mouth
so you stay
and it feels like goodbye, but not yet
(they don’t know)
it starts like this, the spill of amber liquid at your feet and you watch it stain the rug, and you let it get bigger, but you don’t want to clean it up
she says she loves you but you don’t answer
you don’t smell burning flesh, the sweet acrid taste of meat on a fire but your skin curls all the same
he says thank me for it
so you do
she says beg and you break open, he says let me in, and you fall at their feet
you’re blowing smoke, your lungs turning on itself,
she says you’re so pretty so he calls you beautiful
and a piece of you dies, and a piece of you withers
you’re tipping your head back and you swallow, the cold press of metal on your teeth, the sip of bitterness at the back of your throat
but a trickle turns into a gulp, a gulp turns into an ocean and you suck it down
you feel the heat on your lips and your face is turned upwards, arms outstretched
you’re on the ground, cold tiles on your cheek, it feels wet and it feels tenuous
you don’t know when desperation turned into this
you’re encased in glass, you’re breathing shards in your veins
the first time it goes black you wake up with splinters between your nails and amber liquid dripping from the hems of your jeans
then your knees are wet, and your head is aching, and your throat is raw
you wake up and you are bare, you wake up and you tastes pleas on your tongue
he says he loves you
and you say it back
but there are shadows on your clothes and strings pulling on your limbs
your eyes are turning dark
tick tock baby, can you run on broken feet?