Don’t look for love.
Be love.
i will color the world in red til my veins bleed dry til my body lies limp on the ground. i will spill my soul like waves of a foamy ocean
By Sara about a year ago in Poets
she plays with fire but she does not get burned. she walks holding the devil’s hand and kisses profanity good night but her soul is pure as the white of the moon
they all hope happy ever after exists and they will find it somewhere but i wish to never hold its porcelain fingers.
i will know that i am healed when you no longer drip from my mind in ink into my fingers. when I want to write about
they call me things like pretty but my reflection has never been mine i live in a body that does not belong to me.
they say but you’re pretty at least you have that. but rose petal lips have never kissed loneliness away. my clear bright eyes
the ink in my eyes cries for me when i have no tears and my pupils drip words of pain. the window to my soul is also a portal
it’s hard to forget you when you are written all over my body like black sharpie that even if i scrubbed my body raw would still be so black.
he asked me if i was looking for something when i spent too many nights at the foot of his bed waiting for his cursed touch
he left 18 red roses at my door. i scattered their petals in the same graveyard that his promises lay. flowers. so useless.
yesterday i wore a dress. not sweatpants or ripped jean shorts. yesterday i drank my black coffee out of a tall wine glass
when i say miss you i do not mean your hair or your eyes or the song of your voice and the way your fingers dance over my body.
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