✝┆THE VIRGIN MARY. *ap

a  weak  boned  boy  made  up  of  frayed  wires  .        he  will  not  allow  himself  bend  or  break  again  ,  will  not  let  himself  implode  with  the  burnings   of  a  broken  heart  .        veins  of  poison  wrapping  around  the  organ  ,  trying  to  keep  it  intact  so  that  his  frame  does  not  cave  in  .        he  could  tell  his  beloved  how  sorry  he  is  .        that  he  will  never  leave  again  ,  that  he’d  hang  up  his  poisoned  soul  on  the  coat  rack  made  up  of  their  enemies’  bones  .        he  could  be  truthful  ,  &  she  could  have  doubts  .        he  could  stay  forever  ,  but  they  are  both  too  smart  to  believe  in  things  like  that  ,  no  longer  able  to  trust  in  kaleidoscope  thoughts  &  childish  daydreams  .        one  day  ,   he  will  leave  again  ,  &  she  will  fall  in  love  again  .        he  will  be  scratched  out  of  portraits  .        reduced  to  a  name  &  scarring  memories  .        she  will  try  to  forget  him  ,  &  he  will  be  searching  for  her  love  in  places  there  is  none  .        his  every  waking  thought  &  his  last  dying  wish  .                

hands  pull  away  from  the  rosary  ,  like  it  scorched  him  ,  like  it  disgusts  him  .        eyes  closing  so  tightly  in  frustration  that  he  can  see  the  galaxies  she’s  made  of  on  back  of  his  eyelids  .        the  world  spinning  at  a  sickening  speed  ,  he  will  swallow  down  bile  .        her  kisses  taste  like  love  ,  &  he  has  never  deserved  that  .        without  thinking  ,  rough  hands  will  press  harshly  against  her  collarbone  .        he  has  never  taken  her  softness  into  consideration  .        maybe  if  he’s  ugly  ,  she’ll  understand  .        blood  stained  teeth  snarling  ,  eyes  flickering  black  ,  it  pains  him  to  show  her  the  face  that  damns  him  .        but  he  is  no  good  ,  &  will  never  deserve  her  love  .             ‘   no  ,  we’re  not  .        nothing  about  you  ,  nothing  about  us  ,  is  right  .        what  don’t  you  fucking  understand  ?       it’s  going  to  kill  us  .       this  is  going  to  fucking  kill  us  …   ’          &  you  do  not  deserve  to  die  .        not  at  his  hands  ,  not  even  at  god’s  . 

‘   &  i’m  not  going  to  die  because  of  you  .   ’   

a  poisoned  heart  beating  quickly  .        sprung  to  life  &  pounding  against  him  ,  slowly  melting  the  layer  of  ice  making  up  his  chest  plate  until  it  becomes  thin  enough  to  break  through  .      then  his  blood  will  color  crimson  tragedies  along  the  walls  &  his  faux  courage  that  he’s  worked  hard  to  build  up  ,  will  drain  with  it  .      because  there  is  a  scar  in  the  shape  of  a  rosary  along  his  chest  .      burning  in  her  company  ,  weak   bones  turning  to  ash  .      because  she  looks  like  love  ,  soft  &  radiant  .     &  chase  ,  so  starved  of  such  affections  ,  will  fall  victim  to  the  desire  .      regretting  that  choice  after  he  finds  himself  in  a  noose  .      only  to  let  it  happen  time  after  time .      but  not  today  .      after  minutes  of  ignoring  every  syllable  spoken  like  honey  ,  he  turns  to  face  her  .      heart  strings  tug  against  a  blackened  at  the  sight  of  her  .     she  looks  defeated  ,  her  stitching  slowly  ripping  from  the  seams  .     it’s  painful  to  look  directly  at  her  .     moka  is  the  sun  ,  &  she  is  burning  out  .      taking  a  deep  breath  ,  each  movement  will  hurt  .     he’s  doing  this  for  her  ,  he  likes  to  think  ,  &  not  his  drowning  fear  of   commitment  .      the  glacier  melting  and  filling  up  polluted  lungs  .                 ‘   leave  me  the  fuck  alone  .   ’             teeth  gritting  ,  eyes  narrowed  ,  voice  booming  ;  it  is  an  act  perfected  .      far  too  easy  when  the  boy  on  the  inside  is  screaming  ,  begging  for  help  .      heart  crumbling  ,  leaving  him  with  only  rubble  to  breath  .     choking   &  sputtering  up  empty   ‘  i  love  you  ’   s   and   ‘  please  don’t  leave  me  ’   s  past  the  blood  pouring  past  lips  .                 

‘   do  you  understand  me  ,  moka  ?      leave  me  alone  .      i  don’t  want  anything  to  do  with  you  anymore  .   ’ 

*  @rcsario

                                   lies scar fragile flesh     ,     staining her in the horrors of his love  ,     a love that burns brightly in daylight but sits coldly in moonbeams   .       she’d barely had him home with her for more than a day      ,      and he prepares to leave again    .   AGAIN   !     how many times would this be  now    ?   heart expands too far     ,      welcoming him home in her embrace too many times  .     would she ever get tired of a boy so cruel    ,    a boy she’d call a man if it wasn’t for his fears that withhold his bloom   ?    one day there wouldn’t be a home to come back to    .     one day    ,     when times were better and life was brighter    ,    she wouldn’t be here anymore  .  perhaps even sooner     ,    she’d marry a man worth marrying    ,     and  there wouldn’t be space in her ever-expanding heart for him anymore .    

                 out of politeness,   she does not her voice that moka would even get it if she tried.   ‘   i’m not sulking.   ’   plump lips move to correct her,   her face pale.   it’s with angelic calmness that she tilts her head,   regarding moka with a careful eye,   tracing her details.    ‘   i’m mourning.   ’

                 ‘   no.   ’   emotions bubble at her lips violently,   cause a hurricane in her chest.   she shakes her head,   aggressive.   ‘   no.   that’s not true.   ’   it might be,   for all she knows,   but love,   lust   —-   lydia doesn’t know the difference most of the time.   all she knows is that when she’s around moka,   her knees feel a little bit like dessert jell-o,   and her schoolgirl crush is wide enough to span around her neighborhood.    blood comes nearer.   she stares,   wide-eyed,   speechless,   silently pleading with the vampire for there to be another way.   this is irreversible,  this she knows,   and it doesn’t even matter.   in the end,   she will always make erratic choices because of love.   in the end,   she will always pick moka.   with tears in her eyes and a wobble of chipmunk cheeks and raspberry lips,    she cants her head down to let the taste seep into her mouth.

             crimson petals part,      head tilts back with the tiniest twinge of satisfaction.  blood sharing was,   and forever will be,   intensely erotic for vampires------  deeper than sex,    better than feasting.   it was giving a part of yourself to someone worth deserving,    someone who will wake to be yours forever,   loyal and loving.   what a shame that moka herself cared little for that commitment,    she merely enjoyed the pain of abandonment.   arm pulls away,  hands resting on either side of lydia’s head.    with a sharp twist,  and no warning,   she snaps her neck. 

                she knows.   ‘   but you haven’t.   ’   pulse quickens underneath moka’s touch.   her cruelty has burned through flesh so many times that maybe lydia’s immune to the fire now.   isn’t that a nice thought?   ‘   what are you waitin’ for?   do it.   ’   she’s tired of this back-and-forth,   of moka not saying what’s on her mind.   TELL ME YOU LOVE ME.   TELL ME YOU HATE ME.   anything is better than the lie.   ‘   y’either want me dead or y’want me alive,   but when i’m around you i feel like i’m both,  and i can’t keep doin’ that.   i feel dead because of how much i love you.   you don’t get what that’s like.   ’