For the ones who love with the sun
Damn you, woman. you bleed hard in pages.-N
you wake up in the morning raw and your skin feels naked whether it’s hot or cold and you want coffee or sometimes tea and you want to look at your phone or cuddle someone or make slow love turning into speedy pounding or you want to stretch your muscles and sometimes being still in the morning is enough no matter what weather the city is on.
i am a lover who wants to be on your mind 24/7 struggling not to disguise my selfishness as love. my love is not always pure. i’m not 100% sure that i will not crave your attention. that i will not doubt how you really feel about me. that i will not doubt myself. that i will never feel threatened. that i will never be weak. i’m not afraid of not existing but i am terrified of losing the ones i love.
i take loss deeply, a knife struck in between my breasts. i take no offense in a mouth complaining that i always have something to say. i just walk away.
i wish i knew that i was breathing fire before burning in it.
i wish i had learned how to make fire with words earlier than playing with lighters snapping between the fingers of people who said they’re putting out the flames for my own good. their good was no better. i was better left alone to shine at my own pace. at my own will.
i wish every lesson felt as good as the sun when i skinny-dip in the sea. i am not afraid of hurting anymore. the tears relieve me. you may protect me but not from myself.
i warn you.
i am iron. i am a fang. i am a hawk’s claw.
i am a rose.
i am water. i’m a cat. i’m the sharpest edge of a lightning bolt.
i’m a snake.
but in a hundred days out of a hundred and one,
i am not hard to love.