From The Vaults: pretty poems for shitty people, part one: tell me something.

the ex-ex-ex-ex-ex

tell me,
who stole your sweetness?
and when i find them,
i will destroy them
(even if it was me)
in the worst way.
there’s a price to pay
for the wrecking of one’s soul.

the crush

Tell me,
how did you get to be so perfect?
And as for your imperfections,
they feel as warm
as the imprints of your lips against mine.
There is no greater crime
than neglecting to love all of the feathers of your wings.

whoever, at this point

tell me about the greatest losses you’ve ever suffered.
tell me about the times when the earth was ripped out from under your feet;
whisper them in my ear when we make love,
cry them out to me.
let them quiver in your hands when they force your eyes to the ground.
my palm on your chest is meant to ease the pressure,
to channel healing into cracked crawl spaces,
to settle frequencies with care.



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