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by Violet

There is darkness in all of us, mine is simply louder.

I’ve never been good at taking life or people in small doses. I prefer a more lethal injection, to live recklessly, to love wildly, to be so close to someone that you breathe them in, you forget who you are, you let the good fill you up and the bad consume you whole, every heart break is an evolution, a transfiguration.

I’ve come apart again, crumbling in his hands, falling for pretty words and prettier lies, gentle kisses and dangerous eyes. I watch my own insanity merge into his skin, our infatuations mistaken for passion, every scar and every bite intended to mark his territory, I get lost in a simple word: mine.

I dream of holding your hand. Something about a subtle wave, a small gesture as we navigate through the crowds feels far more intimate than kissing or fucking. I dream of being owned, body and soul, in toxic quantities, I want to forget, I want to let go. I want to be taken, used, beaten, subdued, ravished. I want to feel safe when I come undone. The gentlest touch comes when you’re half asleep but still remember to pull me closer, I feel my head pressed against your chest and your heart beat steadily sends me to slumber. The night is young and full of wonder.

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