I think she was afraid to love sometimes. I think it scared her. She was the type to like things that were concrete, like the ocean. Something you could point to and know what it was. I think that’s why she struggled with love. She couldn’t touch it. She couldn’t hold on to it and make sure it never changed.
all i can think about is kissing you and killing myself
I will bleed for better reasons this year.
Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to
museums, and parks, and monuments,
and kiss you in every beautiful
place, so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting me
like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most
beautiful way possible.
And when I leave
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.
I am under no obligation to make sense to you.
Draw a monster. Why is it a monster?
I give a fuck. I give lots of fucks, actually. I’m a prostitute of feelings.