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you could ruin meif you wantedbut you won’tit’s not that your grip isn’t strong enoughor that you haven’t ever gently held me in contempt when I’ve needed itbut you won’t ever hurt me like thatit’s not in the books you’ve reador the love you saw growing upwhat’s sick isI will keep wishing you will against…
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People often write of how it’s something beautiful when everything goes quiet, when you’re alone and someone fills their mind. That’s not when I want to be remembered. I want to be with you when everything is loud. When you have no place for a any thoughts outside of what’s going on. When you’re in…
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we share this really safe thingthat feels as I know it shouldor at least I’ve been told it shouldwhen it’s healthybut secretly or maybe not so secretlyI miss toxicI want what I probably shouldn’t..my panties cut, my face red, my hips bruisedto be pushed against surfaces not meant to hold bodiespainful edges pressing in while…
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he makes me crave an unfamiliar kind of intimacyit’s what people would know as wholesome, I believedinners at the same table, an embrace at the doortraditions and voices that are never ruined in angerI think most just call it normalbut I was taught fear and self soothingto be rarely seen and never heardto look for…
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I am honestly terrified I’ll never be your Dagny.. never a woman you feel is equal. Because I was something like that, fighting against the tides alone for what seemed like my whole life. Then I met you and wanted to be soft for awhile after being steel for so long. Letting my defenses down…
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It was my misunderstanding Thinking that tender meant the absence of aggression, of passion, of intensity That dichotomy was its reality When instead it can mean balance Comprehension of every facet of my needs It can mean coexistence The care of a heart and mind even when the body, most gratifyingly on my part, is…
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some will tempt you with skinwith the little they’ve allowed themselves to learnabout pulling someone inthrow themselves at youin the superficial ways they have amassedfrom a bit of digginga bit of observing from too close or a distanceand assumed you and othersheld in high regardthey can’t go deepthis society who values artificial perfectionhas taught us…
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what good is this poetryif I did not die a thousand deathsto give it to you? the blood& the bones so you would not have to
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and November foundthat the rain cameand it fell and fellflooding out the sidewalksturning the earth to mudthe silence of alone to somethingunbearableseeing all those tearsfalling from the skyas I was sinkingthen drowningnot knowing at alluntil it was too latethat I was no one’s the blood& the bones
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with youI was the circle of lifein reversefrom deathto rebirthI wasI amI will be the blood& the bones to become to be safe
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The Blood & The Bones 