When you reblog one of those prompts and get no asks
dirty streams begin to look
refreshing and I’m starting to feel
like I’d drink anyone down right
now because my mouth has been
un-kissed for so long. It’s not that
I don’t see the scum on the side
of their necks, but desperation
grows on untouched skin like
moss and I really need to be held.
It dictates everything. When you sleep, where you eat even how you breathe. It doesn’t leave you because you can’t leave it.
Typewriter Series #826 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
What if I kiss all the spots
you taught yourself to hate?
What if I placed my hands on them
and left them still, long enough
for my heat to join yours
and you to forget there was ever air
between our skin?
What if I love all you loathe
and what if I spend my days
dirtying up your brain that was washed?
Show you new pictures of the same you
you started avoiding in the mirror?
What if I say all they say is wrong
and fill your ears with honest words
in a language you stopped practicing?
What if I plant new flowers
in the places you frown at,
and teach you the names of them
as they bloom?
What if I told you to never cut them
and let the petals decorate the floor
as you twirl through your life?
What if you forget
you were ever anything other