Bad Blood
It’s better not to love me.
My heart it too fickle
like ocean water overwhelming
sand castles and trust and my face
your hands. Don’t touch me.
Your kisses burn already scorched skin.
I don’t deserve it.
Kindness wasted trying to tame
my feral soul and ravenous spirit.
I don’t want you.
I want him.
He won’t love me like you.
He’ll steal my flesh.
Nip my neck with teeth
tug on my bottom lip.
I hope his touch will leave bruises.
I don’t deserve gentle, sweetness
hold my waist tell me I’m beautiful.
I’m not. I’m pretty
insecure and psychotic.
I’m bad blood and chipped nail polish
fingernails clawing his spine
hands tearing apart your heart.
ČTEŠ
Manic - A Book of Poetry
PoezieAn ever-growing collection of poetry from the racing thoughts of a twenty one year old female.
