stop putting tweasers in important things like cup holders,
no one wants to drink your imperfections.
“thats ok.” but my ribs look like a gnarled oak tree.
why must you touch them?
i’ve never been more ashamed than i am now,
showing my scars to someone who wouldn’t
share theirs with me.
maybe if i can unhitch my breaths you’ll leave
but then who will be the trellis,
im made to grow around?
calling you daddy is the stupidest thing i do,
”i think he makes you earn those things princess, have you earned it?”
but i will do it repeatedly, like a drowning man
gasping for air. i refuse to let you suck the
air out of my lungs, never press the lies on your lips against mine. you are not black and i am not white.
slut. beautiful. yours, yours, yours. im amazing. such a good girl for you.
but why are you so stupid? don’t you know you’re doing it wrong?
if poison wasnt embedded in my skin i’d ask you to hold me.
fuck me until i sweat out the toxins. make me good.
but all i really want is for you to move the god damned tweasers.
where do you expect me to put my white chocolate
“ When “i” is replaced with “we” even illness becomes wellness. ”
Malcolm X (via skyb0urne)
“ lover, ”
it’s frightening to admit that you revive the dreamer in me.
i’m good at getting stuck in my head, but you make me courageous.
you pull me away from myself.