♡ 29.10.21 D ♡
Why does every FP represent orange? Yellow hints that guide my blue into anew. Who are you? Your face screams familiar, I see you in my dreams. You don’t listen, you speak, I speak, you listened. Did you hear? Yesterday I bled my knee falling from you and your voice. It haunts my head and my heart feels heavy with your touch my lungs my tongue they cry they beg they stop. I’m dead to you already but this is a funeral where you’re forced to watch my dying body, my corpse of ash and dust and flowers and leaves as they push away my scent my face my hands my clothes. I am replaced with an expensive ideal to look more fake alive than I ever felt, especially with you. You were my sickness, my plague, my fault, and yet I loved you with more than my heart. Less than, maybe. You were a fiction that I was forced to act through until my teeth stain my skin with pink kisses you call scars. You call that so so insultingly as if they are not an art that I display secretly. My own trait that nobody is meant to see. You look as if it makes me myself the mistake. Your hate festers until that’s all I am. Well, I hate you too. I faked hope so you could succeed, but you were always the murderer. My own face, my skin, should not define my story. Eff you.