romantise ugly things like screaming out your esophagus into their ugly eyes they have such pretty smiles with the lips always closed over real tight to keep the nasty words in what is oxygen? they roll their eyes back to their soggy brain spewing rot and regret to keep the ugly things in but they still spill out a glass of milk will not save such soft bones lovely all there is is hurt and the ugly words and the world is thorns and dead rose bulbs, baby you know his religion is having a hard on for fucking your mind.
"Please stop running back to him, he is a desolate dipshit and all he is ever going to do is hand you more mourning, dead petal tongues and thorn coated mumurs."
but I know he will kiss you and cut you as long as you'll let him.
and I know that you will. for a million more nasty words.
YOU ARE READING
Cut Me Up
PoetryIt's bitter and bloody in the end baby, doesn't matter if you are a saint or a sinner. We all die wishing this wasn't it or how it was or how it happened. How horrible is it to still be what remains. ©eve pritchard
