#iztor

You roll off me, landing beside me, the bed rocks. We’re lying there, catching our breath, not touching. I feel empty.

‘I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue to fuck someone and do this when it’s not going anywhere. I know it can’t go anywhere. I’m not stupid. I always knew that but sometimes I feel weirdly about you. I don’t know if it’s love or some form of it. I don’t really know what that feels like. I do know that you’re not even close to feeling the same and you never will because you don’t feel. You say you care and I believe you but I think it’s just because we have sex once or twice a week. I want to stop but I’m afraid you’ll ignore me. I don’t want to become nothing to you. It’s a horrible feeling, you know, caring about someone so much only for them to admit that it was all a lie and they never really cared about you or how you were carrying on. I’m so afraid of being alone, Vic. Half of time I call or text, it’s cause I’ve had a bad day and I know if I’m alone, I might hurt myself. I ask you to hurt me instead. I like the aftercare because for a moment I can pretend that what’s normal with us. You holding me and stroking my hair, it makes me happy. I don’t want to let that go but you get so fucking distant. I can’t stand it. I just...’

“Iz... you alright?”

“Huh?”

“You’re crying.”

“Oh.” I wiped my face. “It’s a bit over whelmed, I guess.”

“Iz.”

“I’m okay, Vic. I just need to some sleep.” I rolled over, my back to you. I felt you stare at me before rolling over as well.

It’s Sex

01. Earned It - The Weeknd || 02. Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood || 03. Hatefuck - Cruel Youth || 04. Pillowtalk - Zayn || 05. WTF Love Is - Tove Lo || 06. Shameless - The Weeknd ||

It’s Not Love

I had a nightmare about you. You died. I couldn’t do anything but watch. 

I woke up crying. I woke you up by crying. I wrapped myself around you, holding you close to my chest, fingers dragging through your hair. I didn’t want to let you go.

I used to dream about you. I used dream about you a lot. Sometimes clothed but mostly naked. I used to imagine what you’d look like. Scars, tattoos, birthmarks.

We’d lay in your bed, pressed against each other. Breathing each other in. I’d wrap my arms around you, kissing your neck and shoulders. Your hand would slide between my legs. I’d moan and you’d smirk. You’d force your fingers in mouth. I’d suck it like it was candy. We’d fuck till we couldn’t move. Lay quietly in the dark, tangled together and breathing hard.

I hate when you look at me. I can feel your eyes against my back. I stopped leaving the door open when I showered post-coitus.

I feel ugly and ashamed. You say I’m beautiful but I don’t feel like I am.

I shut the door on you and stare at myself in the mirror. I pinch at extra fat and skin. I dig and pick at little spots on my face. Soon there are little spots of blood over my body. I dab them away but there’s still redness and swelling.

I like watching you dress. The way you move around the room. I memorize the scars, bruises, birth marks, moles. The way your muscles move, the veins that flow through you. Things I didn’t notice earlier.

Three and a half years are I could recreate you by memory. Every little detail. When we’re laying in bed late at night I retrace your veins, from your wrist to your heart. Your hand drags through my hair. I look at you, wondering what you’re thinking. I can never tell.

I stare at you in the middle of the night. Watching your chest rise and fall as you breathe. Your eyes move underneath your lids. I wonder what you're thinking, dreaming of. Is it me? Or is it something more beautiful? Or maybe it’s something ugly. Are my nightmares your dreams?

Sometimes I wonder what’s underneath. Underneath your skin and hair. Would there be muscle and bone or maggots and decay? I’ll drag a finger across a scar, imaging I’m opening it with my nail. Sometimes blood pours out, other times its black slime. 

I woke you up once. Your hand wrapped around mine in tired fury. In the dim light, your eyes looked hollow, lifeless. Like they didn’t belong to you. They were the eyes of something inside you. Something dark and cruel. Something fighting to get out. It wanted to hurt me.