Marina

Taking his hands,

Will I be an old woman, picking apart what I see in front of me?

Forever haunted by my reflection.

Am I forever doomed,

repeating back every flaw as I try to fall asleep?

My own perverse lullaby.

Or once my dark hair grays, will I just blend back into the wallpaper.

We’re a sprawled out mess on my bedroom floor

A home

for you to rest your weary head.

Full of warmth and soft lights, you’ll never grow cold or taste the bitter winter.

Rays of sunlight forever peaking through the curtains.

Twenty four years old trying my best to put pressure on the wounds from when I was seventeen

Hold my face gently bring me closer and closer to you. Until I’m a swooning sweet rag doll in your arms.

You never want to leave