grave letters ✓

18

velvet drapes upon our golden saccharine skins/ messy bedside table/ tongue-tired/ naked(?)/ the after-taste of your cum-coated fingers at the back of my mouth/ hopes up-

i made space between my thighs, gentle with the pruned tips of my fingers; your roots, my love! they can grow beneath my skin- just as long as you don't leave me gushing blood on dirty bathroom floors, crushing my ribs to make way for the flowers you bloom inside of me. dissolving my organs in acid and chewing my veins away- i want the flowers to stay warm through winter. by any chance, could that be possible?

driving past the speed limit on broken highways/ headlights flashing/ my least favorite song on the radio, but i can learn to love it/ the saddest mornings and the first slip-up of a taximan under the influence/ do i close my eyes?

my midnight-after-rush! my little town escape! 

somewhere in between arguments about starbucks and your hand up my skirt- your gaze straight ahead on the road, i ask if you'd stick around once we get off this highway and you make the wrong joke. 

perfect boys only exist in great novels. 

then tell me why page eighteen is covered in overripe peaches and your name?

tell me why i write grave letters to you with blunt knives upon my wrist?