Crush my heart to pulp between your fingers; I’ll smile through the blood in my teeth and ask you to do it again, harder this time.
I’ve realized it doesn’t matter if I make love to the wrong person with my words.
The words don’t care. They want to be written either way.
Either way, I’ll bleed.
We’re all on a collision course with Death, and I want to meet Her fully, unashamed and decadent.
I’ll be the fruit, too sweet and gone to rot, tumbling from the branch.
Do it. Indulge me one last time, baby.
Squeeze.
– Sara Myriad
3 Comments
Eddie
A shot of adrenaline just raced through me.
saramyriad
Thank you for reading and taking the time to comment. 🙂
Thirteen Doors
I felt this, lived it through you, and revisited within… Crushed hearts, yet drawn to the vise, moths to flames, yet the flames have died.