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excerpts.
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the hands that cradled my face and tilted it upwards to kiss my forehead are soaked in unfathomable quantities of blood. but they cradled me, yes?
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for the longest time, i saw myself as a bad person. you don’t know how much it meant to me when you looked at me and could see the good.
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i’m hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. the desperate, aching kind of love. the kind there’s no coming back from. the kind there’s no way out of. the kind that’s going to be the death of me one day.
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i love you. today. tonight. tomorrow. forever. if i were to live a thousand years, i would belong to you for all of them. if I were to live a thousand lives, i would want to make you mine in each one.
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i don’t want to beg. i know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. i don’t want to beg. but oh god—— oh god, please. please. love me. love me.
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in another universe, i wasn’t so full of rage and longing. in another universe, i was full of love.
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i feel like neither a child nor an adult. i am a botched, failed creature, combining the worst qualities of each.
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i’m hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you. the desperate, aching kind of love. the kind there’s no coming back from. the kind there’s no way out of. the kind that’s going to be the death of me one day.
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grieving, grieving, constantly grieving. i mourn what could have been, what will not be, what i can’t save.
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i found the most delicate boy, who steals looks when he thinks i don’t notice. and, oh, he’s going to ruin me. he really is. i already know it. he watches like he’s afraid to want me and i watch like i’m afraid to be wrong.
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you look just like your mother, but that rage… your mother doesn’t wear that rage.
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i fall asleep whispering, “i am safer alone, i am safer alone, i am safer alone, i am safer alone.” forgive me, memory is a rope around the neck.
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i’m not a whole person and i don’t think i ever will be. parts of me died in the house i grew up in and i visit them in dreams.
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i know better than anyone that i’m more accustomed to holding a knife than someone’s hand.
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your father’s blood will be your blood until you’re both rotting in the ground. when you stare in the mirror, his face will be glaring back at you with the utter disdain and disappointment only a father can truly have.
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the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t. my guilt will not purify me.
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i cannot stop thinking of you. from the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit. my thoughts of you never end. i am yours.
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still, there is this terrible desire to be loved. still, there is this horror at being left behind.
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nothing ever ends poetically. it just ends and we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. it was just red.
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my feelings for you are biblical; that is they are intense, reckless, arrogant, risky and unconcerned with the way of the world. i flaunt my bleeding wounds, madden with my certainty.
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you’re trying not to tell him you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist.
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won’t someone hold my face in their hands and tell me it’s going to be okay? won’t someone come and be kind to me because i don’t know how?
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i crush her against me. i want to be part of her. not just inside her but all around her. i want our rib cages to crack open and our hearts to migrate and merge. i want our cells to braid together like living thread.
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will you be the place where i can finally stop performing for? can i slump in your arms and blink dry, tired eyes? could i weep for a resolve, could i stay quiet?
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i was born with my mother’s eyes. i loved those eyes until i remembered the anger in them. i wonder, will i grow up to be angry too?
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all daughters turn into blood-thirsty hounds — after years of licking their own wounds and biting their tongue.
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so much of love is violence. the desire to be split open, invaded, mangled, and made new.
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i wondered if your teeth could tear through me. you bit at my neck and i wanted to ask you to dig your canines in and rip out my throat. if anything is to kill me i hope it is your mouth.
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inside me, something seethes. inside me, some feral animal claws at my ribcage, trapped.
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death doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints. it takes and it takes and it takes.
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you are not your father. you are your own man. man—— no, you’re just a kid. you’re just beginning.
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i don’t want to beg. i know you can feel it, my longing, the aching, my need for love. i don’t want to beg. but oh god—— oh god, please. please. love me. love me.
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i am afraid of you. in loving me you hold a knife at my throat. in loving you i tell you exactly where to cut. we are two against the world, yet i still do not trust your hand in mine. this is new and i am terrified.
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i’m not a whole person and i don't think i ever will be. parts of me died in the house i grew up in and i visit them in dreams.
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i am both the sacrificial lamb and the executioner. the scapegoat and the swordslayer. the one screaming and the angel of death.
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he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.
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gnaw on me, lover. kiss the gash in my neck and call it romance. feed on my organs and call it lust. i am your animal. bring me to slaughter. i will only love you more.
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do i still taste of war? can you still feel the battles on my skin stitched across my back? am i still rebuilding bone by fragile bone?
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he had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise.
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you keep leaving me. you leave me longing for you again and again when i would give anything for you to stay, and it is killing me.
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i dreamt of being something wanted; some object of desire — something heady and sweet and worthy to be held down.
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look at me. for once in your entire life, look at me, and see the fangs in my smile. because i was never soft, like you thought. all this time, i was a wolf and you tried to imagine me into a sheep.
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