and learn to fly.

sacred roadkill.

when a boy tells you you deserve better when he tells you how bad he is for you how he’ll only hurt you and himself and wants you for selfish reasons and that one day you’ll wake up and realize what he knew from the second he saw you,

i don’t know,

maybe you should listen up. 

but you were drunk. and you were wanting. and you were open and honest and willing and excited, oh my god you were so excited that you leapt at the chance to feel his mouth all over yours and his hands devouring your body like he had imagined this moment as an oasis of you in a desert of flesh,

i don’t know,

maybe he’s not lying. 

and when i say you, i don’t mean you. i mean me. i mean me as i am small and fickle and wanting and willing and scared and sacred excited oh my god i am so excited like a child finally allowed a sparkler after six fourth of julys of being told you’re too small like that moment you discover you can cross the atlantic it’ll just take effort,

i don’t know,

maybe it’s better to keep to yourself. 

myself it might’ve been better to keep to myself than tell you, and this time i mean you, darling boy, darling man, darling creature that makes me feel buried under the sound of heartbeats and heavy breathing, to tell you that you are exactly what i want in the simplest terms with no ability or practical use for artifice,

i don’t know,

maybe you should’ve shut me up. 

but. 

time is of the essence, and the essence is the amount of saliva two mouths can produce before they long for other liquids, and i could drink you dry if you’d only let me hold that glass. if you hate me, tell me, if you’re terrified, tell me that too. i won’t get prettier. i won’t get nicer. i won’t get worse or better and you’ll go away because you have to go away and no one will think twice about it except me when i think hell maybe that was a bad choice

i don’t know, 

i’d rather make one than imagine the possibilities.