#zcldvs

   her  lips  felt  as  sweet  as  syrup, like the ones that get gummy and sticky    under the hot summers sun, against her lips. cassie knew she was nothing    more than a tired bug trapped in a honey pot. at every turn, on every curve    on her body, cassie found  herself  running  right  back  into  her.  even  if it    started  with  growing  waves of  anger and gushing blood on her knuckles,    even  if  she feels like she's had the wind knocked out of her by her fucked    up life, she somehow still ends up right there in the same hopeless spot. 

   same words. same charms. same girl.

   the feeling  she  gets  being  around  zelda was something she couldn't put    words to. it was like she was merely a sketch etched  with  graphite  a  little    too  hard  on  a piece  of paper, and an eraser came and tried to get rub out     but  left  her  as nothing more than a dark smear across the canvas. it didn’t    feel right nor like her, and she can’t figure out what is anymore. the bullies in    the  schoolyard,  the  borderline   abusive   foster  families,   and   the  snide    therapists  all  seem  to  stop  mattering   when it came down to her and her    girlfriend.

   cassie decided that ‘girlfriend’ was a weird  label  to  give  themselves.  they    hadn’t decided that they were girlfriends,  they  just  were.  and  every  word    that leaves cassie hanging, as if it were the thread that stood between safety    and falling off a cliff,  were  words  she  believes she could never be  deaf to.    zelda  was  gorgeous;   the  giggle  bubbling  out  of her served  to feed that    festering insecurity within cassie,  where  she wonders if this is the only way    to get the validation she craved, but denied lusting over. 

   air escapes her parted lips after that chaste   peck, and she's  almost  giddy    with the fact that for those short seconds of intimacy,  they  were also  short    seconds where the wave of resentment and hurt melted away. there’s defeat    in the way cassie averts her gaze, emerald eyes grazing over the purple and    blue over her human knuckles, and the perfect unbroken skin of  those  that    were crafted for her.

   she wants to be good. she wants to make her parents  proud.  she wants to    do all those things but they were ripped away from her in an instant  that no    one asked for but bigots and assholes who  can  now  do  no more damage    to her than raise the rage within her body. the heat rises again. she wants to    be good. the guilt  fighting  against her wants  her to  be  good.  she  wishes    she didnt have these feelings. she wants to be as unfeeling as the other half    of  her body. she doesnt want to  feel  anymore. her gaze flickers back up to    zelda.

   perfect porcelain skin that hid  danger  within each  crevice,  cassie  couldnt    deny that it excited her. everything was electric. young, dumb, and wrapped    around each others fingers, she decides that it isn't love that exists here. its    something wicked, wicked enough to bring  the  prideful like  them  both  to    their  knees.  it's  only  a  matter  of  who  keels  over  first.  so  cassie   asks    herself, why be good, when  the  world  is just as bad as zelda  wants her to    be? she kisses her teeth, knowing full well that she'd break them before she     breaks her pride, and  if being wicked means continuing to play this game -- 

          "what do you want, babe?”