my mind consists of...

You think you’ve seen her naked because she took her clothes off? Tell me about her dreams. Tell me what breaks her heart. What is she passionate about, and what makes her cry? Tell me about her childhood. Better yet, tell me one story about her that you’re not in.   You’ve seen her skin, and you’ve touched her body. But you still know as much about her as a book you once found, but never got around to opening.

Y u pet me

i could never understand why you loved her more, or why you loved her at all, because she left a sick feeling in your stomach and a bad taste in your mouth and love is supposed to be sick in a good way, not sick in a “tell my mom i love her” kind of way. and i could never understand why i loved you more, or why i loved you at all, because you left bruises on my heart and bruises on my skin and i forgot the taste of your lips because i was drowning in my tears and love is supposed to be drowning in a good way, not drowning in a “oh my god there’s so much blood” kind of way. and i couldn’t understand why you were able to fuck her with the lights on and off, but you couldnt even hug me in front of your mom, and she always looked at me with sad eyes and i never understood why until i overheard her one night after dinner while she said “let this poor girl go now before you break her heart.” and i have yet to understand why you loved her more or why you loved her at all because saying her name burned your throat worse than alcohol did and she left you with a smile on her face and her knife in your chest but you still crawled after her.