your body is a trick of the light,
and i’m an animal chasing shadows,
all swiping claws and no etiquette.
sorry about that, i guess.
sorry about the pinpricks i left in your hipbones,
sorry about the blood on your sheets,
and the scratches down your back.
okay. i’m not really sorry.
but you wouldn’t expect me to be.
we are what we are.
you’re the boy that keeps falling in love with monsters,
and i guess that makes me a monster.
you’re a mouthful of razor blades
and i’m shredding my tongue on your tonsils.
we’re a bomb in a crowd.
we’re every awful thing our mothers warned us about.
and you’re still teaching me how to love something
without tearing it apart.
and i’m still trying to make sure the only thing
that can tear you apart
imagine a ghost getting brought back to life but they’ve been a ghost for so long that they have trouble adjusting. like, they keep running into walls and doors because they used to be able to just pass through them or they trip down the stairs because they used to float down them and sometimes they trip over their own feet because they forget how to walk all together