it's my silence, stretched thin like the breath between thunder and breathless sea. it's my tongue caught in the crack between words, where the storm of meaning collapses inward, a promise that never lands. the wind stirs as though it knows, fingers tracing the bruises left by unsaid things. the way the air bends around me, as if it’s waiting for me to scream, but it doesn’t—because i know you know how silence tastes, how it burns, how it never reaches your ears but settles deep in the bones.

and here, in the hush, there is a hunger you cannot hear. how i want to speak the language of loss, where every word cuts deeper than the last. where love is the ache of wanting more than you can give, and the sea answers only with its cold, endless horizon. i want to tell you how the wind sings in my chest, how it tears at my insides, how my ribs ache with words i don’t know how to say, words that could drown you if they were said aloud. but i know this silence will fill you—how it settles between us like a secret that can’t be spoken, like something we both know will destroy us if we look at it too long.

the ocean murmurs, it knows the way i burn. i am a vessel of empty spaces, hollowed by things i’ve never told you. the moon sees me like this, alone and aching, wrapped in the tangle of quiet and desire, and i don’t know which one is worse, which one will tear me apart first. love, maybe, or the grief of it. how strange that they are the same. i watch the waves pull and crash against themselves, and in that rhythm, i hear my heart beating out your name, soft and desperate, like the wind that never stops.

this is how i want you. in fragments, in pieces that fit together and tear apart at the edges. the wind knows this, the sea knows this, but you—you only need to feel it, to taste it like salt on your tongue, to understand that desire, too, is silence.

i hate having a body like what the fuck why cant i just be air or something

fake idgafer i saw you touching your necklace for comfort

devour me

here is how to offer a sacrificial lamb.
hold it gently, with hands that shake but never close
wrap its small body in threads of guilt, whisper prayers you don’t believe, tie them tight around its throat. paint its back with the shadow of your intentions,
let the knife hover
not yet, not yet. until silence stretches thin and snaps. spill what is left on the altar of almost, watch how the ground drinks it in.
whatever you do, do not flinch when it looks at you.

sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall
sometimes i wonder if i even know you at all