trends guys hate:
- crop tops and high waisted shorts
- red lipstick
trends girls hate:
- being murdered
- being murdered for wearing crop tops and high waisted shorts
I do not love a skinny boy.
I love a boy with hands like fire —
I drag him through a broken window
and he tells me that he needs me.
I do not love a skinny boy, just a boy
who can never stay on his feet, a boy
who swallows himself whole every night.
Always shaken. Always empty.
My skinny boy is not broken —
my skinny boy is a monument to the men
that never came before him,
he is the kind of boy you fall for in five minutes, then,
Goddamn it, never again.
My skinny boy doesn’t breathe right —
he chokes on my metaphors and comes up gasping.
He bleeds into my mouth, then asks to do it again.
I call him beautiful and he answers.
I tell him to kiss me and he does.
Skinny boy knows this is only love,
nothing like tender, nothing like gentle.
He tells me
“wreck me like my stomach’s swollen,
kiss me like I’m clean.”
I tell him “boy, you don’t know anything,
you’re worthless without my hands.”
I tell him “boy, I swear, I can’t love you anymore.
But I still can make you scream.”
crying because my very first boy ever still holds my heart and he’s so dumb but I honestly can see me suburbing with him