;(

“Adults are, like, this mess of sadness and phobias.”

girl love is golden through and through

dribbles from my lip like half-eaten honey there is a jar of all-berry jam where my heart should be i am not allowed to touch it lest i messy up my filching fingers this too is a rule in girl love

i can tell you about the Homesick if you’d like how it exists for people too when i’m Girlsick there is longing in me instead of blood i slice myself ajar just to catch another wisp of her a lesson in aromatic self-harm

once i read the german novel PERFUME by patrick suskind just to put a word to her every scent pomegranatebloodlettingbesidecinnamonbark fig trees slit through the legs leftover-cereal-milk-gone-soft which i refuse to drink because it reminds me of her thighs wasted milk is prettier than spilt milk butterknife skim white tea and whipped cream (sugar)(silk)(rain)(face)(jasmine)(fingers) pine needles and pine cones and pine sap purple-pink unbranched inflorescence of mexican origin bergamot as delivered by the devil and words of another tongue ―el palo de rosa y sangre de la ciruela

i have not touched myself since the flowers stopped smelling even though i reek of sorrows and unsorries