12:17 Jul 14 2025
Times Read: 73
He’s not gentle with his love.
He’s intense. Possessive. Always watching.
Like he’s memorizing everything
my scent, my sounds, my silence.
When I leave the room, he notices.
When I cry, he feels it in his bones.
And when he touches me, it’s not just to please me
it’s to claim me.
I don’t have to doubt him.
I don’t have to shrink.
His love doesn’t ask me to disappear.
It demands that I stay exactly as I am, because I’m his.
And being his…
feels like the safest place I’ve ever known.
14:19 Jul 13 2025
Times Read: 112
Love, for me, isn’t beautiful.
It’s possession. Obsession. Starvation.
It starts quiet, just a feeling in my chest, but then it spreads like venom.
Not because I want it to, but because I don’t know how to stop it.
When I love, it’s not measured. It’s not polite.
It devours.
I don’t love people. I inhabit them.
Their moods, their habits, the way they breathe, the way their voice breaks when they’re tired, I memorize all of it.
Not because I try to. Because I can’t not.
Because something in me demands to know them so deeply that even they feel exposed.
I want to be under their skin.
Not to control, but to become part of them, permanently.
I want to taste their chaos, hold their broken parts, tear open every locked door they keep hidden from the world.
I don’t crave the easy parts. I crave the ones they’ve never given anyone.
My love is dark.
It doesn’t leave space.
It fills every room, every crack, every silence.
It stares straight through lies. It sees the guilt, the fear, the rot, and loves anyway.
Not blindly. Not gently. But fully.
When I love, I want it all or I want nothing.
Halfway love makes me sick.
I want to be the one they can’t lie to. The one they dream about and wake up angry they still need.
I want to destroy every version of love they thought they understood and replace it with me.
And yes, I get too much.
Yes, I get jealous. Territorial. Quietly raging when I feel them slipping, even a little.
Not because I don’t trust them, but because I’ve already buried parts of myself in them.
And when they pull away, I can feel those pieces screaming.
It’s not romantic. It’s not cute.
It’s not something I want to admit, but it’s true
When I love someone, I would burn down everything for them.
And if they betray me, I won’t just walk away.
I’ll leave them with a wound no one else will be able to heal.
Because I love like something ancient.
Like something not entirely human.
And once you’ve felt that kind of love,
everything else feels like nothing.
19:42 Jul 12 2025
Times Read: 144
i came in quiet,
no one noticed.
they fed me silence
and left me with names
i never asked for.
don’t tell me it gets better.
i’ve buried too many versions of myself
waiting for better.
they all scream from under the floor.
love?
don’t fucking say that word to me.
people use it like currency
then disappear
when you bleed too loud.
i begged once.
never again.
they took pieces,
called it kindness.
i called it theft.
i’ve been touched without being seen.
i’ve been watched without being known.
and now i flinch when something feels safe
because safe is the lie that comes before pain.
i don’t dream of healing anymore.
i dream of ending.
not because i want to die,
but because i want the noise to stop.
even for a second.
i’m tired of carrying things
that never belonged to me.
tired of being strong
because no one else stepped in.
tired of screaming into hands
just to stay alive in my own body.
i didn’t ask for this skin.
this history.
this hunger.
this hollow.
but i wear it
because no one else would.
this isn’t a poem.
it’s a grave.
mine.
yours.
anyone who ever loved too hard
and got silence in return.
i don’t want your light.
i want to be left alone
in the dark that knows me.
let me rot in peace
if peace is even fucking real.
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