Masturbation

…because I’d rather be draped I my own ungodliness than somebody else’s.

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Words.

I have not met you,

But I assure you that your words have been polite.

You have taught them well.

Your words cling to my tongue

They grip me

See, my words no longer heal me.

I can no longer feast upon my words.

My words don’t even greet me.

They hate me.

But I need words.

I need your words.

They have told me all about you,

The storms in your eyes,

Your crooked smile,

Your words are warmer than mine,

Even though you’re more broken than the ocean,

Your words heal me.

But more than anything,

They Speak.

I can tell they’ve been birthed by pain,

And mother by misery,

Heavily burdened,

Yet gentle enough to lie on dandelions.

Your words make me feel like wild fires in love.

You write beautifully.

Thank you.