crazy2thgrl

beating is kinder than leaving. sometimes I wish your last words were movements. a hand against my cheek, a fist to my chest, an arm around my neck, nails on my wrist. the ache more real and easy to find. every night I ache and I point all over. mostly my heart, mostly my mind, to the words stuck that won’t loosen that wedge themselves in my teeth and fall out when I’m drunk, in his lap. he doesn’t need them, boy that loves me until his teeth rot, who says I don’t deserve you who constricts my waist with his hands and who whispers I love you before we fuck. he’s got courage like the front lines of war