Daria Synn

And that fucking kills me.

as you whisper you’re sorry again

I arch into the pain

tears mixing with the sweat of your chest

I love you most

when you hate me enough

to hurt me

lace your love with conditions

offer praise only when it serves you

let boys make art of her innocence

dim the fire in her eyes

starve her of affection

feed her your darkness

hold her when it’s easy

leave when its not

love her in pieces

rewrite everything good about her

and tell her you miss the girl she used to be

- how to break a girl

No riches.

No peace.

No mercy.

But if I have you, then I have everything.

But love rewrote me in your image. Every beat now answers to you. My pulse carries the cadence of your voice, my veins trace the tender outline of your face. everywhere I turn inside myself, I find you.

And if I could peel back my skin, you would see it too. your face pressed into the rivers of my blood, your name written along the chambers of my heart.

I am no longer mine, and I don’t wish to be. For what sweeter fate is there, than to have my body, my soul, my very heart, sing only of you?

One sip of you is never enough. I drink you in, knowing you’re a vice, but you drown out everything else, and I’ve grown to love the taste you leave behind.

You make my head spin, make me reckless, bold, you’re a slow burn, a fire that’s both comfort and poison, and I don’t know if I want to stop.

But there’s danger in craving you, the way you wrap around my thoughts, a steady haze that clouds my sense. I know the price of indulgence, the fall that follows the high, yet still, I raise the glass and choose the blur of you over the clarity of anything else.

i was made to be broken with ceremony, to be loved like destruction masquerading as devotion.

there is a hunger in me that does not sleep. a fever stitched into marrow. a mouth that cannot name what it craves but opens anyway.

give me the man who calls me his undoing with reverence in his voice. the one who holds my name like a blade between his teeth and drags it across his tongue until it tastes like blood and prayer.

let me be the reason he forgets how to be good. let me be the fire he walks into willingly, knowing full well he will burn.

i will never be full. not with love. not with lust. not even with ruin.

you could give me everything, your trust, your cruelty, and i would still beg for the part that hurts the most.

because i do not want to be saved. i want to be consumed. i want the kind of ache that teaches me i am still alive.

because i am insatiable. and you are the only sin i would die to taste again.