HarlequinnGun

listen. all the words I can say are played whenever you hear the rainwater against my acrylic skin and when you shatter the glass of my fingertips. - i. you know how to make a poet fall in love with you. you are never supposed to give him roses or tell him sweet nothings. give him fireflies from your metaphors. and quotes that make his spine ache with loneliness. take away his eyes that scream like projectors from a theatre. rip the words from his mouth, make them your own. tell him to look for seashells with you, but make sure the beach is empty, cause he just wants the passion of having empty hands. and lastly, make sure y

You came 2 months ago in a white van that rattles along the road, you tell me how you'd only stop driving whenever you fall in love with the most wonderful boy. 'It's you this time. And I will never stop loving you.' you smile, and the bruises on my hips instantly feel better. 'i love you.' i whisper, and the air condenses into clouds. 'i know,' you smile, and the air around you chills the minutes. - you remind me of winter trees that lack the life of leaves and fruit and flowerbuds that explode into thousands of petals that feel like lips and are dyed colours far too beautiful for our mortal skins. you are but a tree made of white bone

maybe the anguish will stop sometime soon, [from you, from there, from here] and i'll buckle down and stop aching for you.                          and i'll have enough time                          to mend my other pains. and i won't be so convinced that you'll come and hold me and make me feel safe. maybe i just thought you were the skin i could take and make a cocoon of honey and scars and                            malignant neoplasms. but no, you were never meant to read this. and maybe, when my mind finally starts bleeding, i'll learn from the spiders and devour my prey of fragmented words and broken quotes, and naughty th