GLORY.

the thing about love is that you can’t bottle it

you can’t concoct or brew it

with ingredients or meticulous thoughts

and the thing about people is that they can hurt your feelings

treat you as they may and not think twice about how you’ll scar

and the thing about friends is that it’s hard to tell which ones really are

about which ones love you and which ones use you, which ones wouldn’t look twice at the wounds that fester

and the thing about life is that it’s unpredictable

things don’t always turn out the way you’d like

and sometimes disappointment is left in the place of desire

and ice sits comfortably where fire once did

because the thing about desire is that it’s deceptive

no one is that perfect, you know that now

and satisfaction hardly exists, you say presence will be enough until you get the kiss

and you say the kiss will be enough until you feel his face, breathing down the nape of your neck

and the thing about you is that you’re fragile

you bend in the direction of your hopes

you break in the face of scrutiny

you wither in the presence of neglect

and the thing about monsters is that they’re always lurking

and they can smell vulnerability

like blood

and the thing is that you are strongest when you love yourself

when your body is your priority

when your blood is your own

when you are free

when you allow your vanity to cease

your mind to be at ease

your heart to be strong

your bond to family and true friends to be at the forefront of it all

and the thing is that this much has always been clear

chin up, darling, you’ve tasted sin

you’ve felt the fingers of desire

inside you

you have learned you are glory, despite it all

and all is not lost,

you have escaped with your sanctity,

your sanity,

your smile,

your blood.

and if anything, vow now

never again to let the blood escape your skin in vain

never to allow a monster near your royal likes again

chin up, GLORY.

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Pygmalion

the object of your desire

is an object nonetheless

i sit in a pool of my own fatigue and self hatred,

when did the nature of lust become so limitless?

satisfaction is an urban myth

a voice inside knows where the path leads

and yet my sensibility turns a blind eye,

it revels in its refusal to take heed

but an object of desire

is an object still

and this is the sharp truth

the one that eats through my soul, the one that sends chills

my body turns to stone, my mind to ash

i am the flower you killed

the one you plucked for its beauty

because your adoration is not love

your adoration is possession

and though i wither in your asphyxiating grasp

i am glad that you chose me,

i take pride in my death.

peachbones🍑✨

cheekbones like peaches,

smile so keen

soul so beautiful,

so unmistakably clean.

       tongue like candy,

       body so strong

       hands so kind,

       an earthly charm.

A man with morals,

ethics and candor

with cheekbones like peaches,

a mind as colorful as reefs of coral. 

       He’s got cheekbones like peaches,

       I just wanna take a bite,

       to eat him up if he’ll let me 

       (and I think he just might).