#prettydarkimpulse

red flags in my eyes

love me wrong

and I’ll haunt you right

with a wolf’s intentions

and a prayer stitched into her smile

(beware the pretty ones—they bite)

They called me dramatic. I called it surviving with style.

I didn’t want to be saved. I wanted to be understood — in the dim light of my worst thoughts, in the velvet quiet between heartbeats.

Yes, I wear my wounds like perfume.

Yes, I laugh with mascara tears down my cheekbones.

Tell me I’m too much — I’ve heard it before.

But darling, I was never meant to be palatable.

I was meant to haunt.