You wiped my tears away

and it seems like it should have been so fucking romantic:

callused fingertips brushing smooth made-up cheeks

and I want to kiss you when you do it, but I'm already

giving you everything I have.


My legs make angles against the backseat, sharp and sexual

like all those give me words:

baby, I, love, you. I could whisper in your ear


I was an addict before I was born but you're pulling me out

piece by piece and it's like a shred of tobacco

on the top of twenty pure white filters, I want to get you off

but the sin looks so good.


Skinny, is the way I look without my shirt, and it is

not fucking romantic, the way you can trace my ribs as they

intertwine with my veins, so blue it's like I

was an addict before I was born. You inject me with

everything I never wanted and I light up a cigarette with the windows

all the way up, letting it fill your car with

forty toxins

the box says. Smoking is going to kill me, unless you do it first.

I want to whisper in your ear


baby, I love you but you've already given me satisfaction

and it only hurt half as much as the

thin thread of a needle

tying me up into butterfly knots: anxiety is the color of blood,

love is the color of my shadow on your black leather seats,


strangely sexual angles

like angel wings and you want to turn me on but

I'm out of lighter fluid.


I inhale too fast and forget to breathe,

call it fucking romantic that you take my breath away


but it's only because

I smoke to forget what it is that makes me love you

and I'm always trying to forget

to forget.

I was an addict before I was born and it's so hard

to remember what I'm supposed to be addicted to:

is it your fingers, his needles, the blood, the nicotine,

the two hits that send me flying like

an angel o(n)r some heroin(e).


Clever, you shake your head and plunge deeper.

I want to drown because it feels too good,

you feel too wrong, this is not what I need

so I whisper (and it looks like it's fucking romantic

but all I say is)


I'd rather be dead than be addicted to you. And you say


baby, I, love, you. Strung out, the tears come down,

you wipe them away. Oh, we're such fucking romantics.