You're lies always come true, you contort your future with your stories, you're a solid ground for a little ghoul to harvest. 

• Every time you part your lips, you will pay for the kiss; the experience. You will also pay for the absence of experiences. 
• For every second your heart chattered with ardency, the rhythm of your heart will mangle with distress.
• Every melody in which you amuse him with your feeble little fingers and your tiny little voice, that will be the bomb in your chest, the waterworks.
• For every time he takes care of you when your sick, for that time after surgery when he nursed you back to health and dried your tears, you were paying into him your soul that he will never return to you.
• For every ping of jealousy you ever experienced and consoled yourself with these reflections, you will experience that jealousy times fifty.
• For every occurrence in which you ran your fingers through his hair, stared deeply into his green eyes, and didn't say an adequate amount, that too will drown you.
• For every episode that you were upset and you said too much, that will be the pit of self-hatred you call your stomach.

For everything you do, you are investing in your future.

She smirks in her bitter self esteem,
bathing in vanity; stressed and malicious, she bites her lip.
She prides herself over her mischievous actions, nearly purring at her realizations;
She coveted it; its her buddah, she recollects. S

Cats.

The tv flashes with channels trying to seduce someone to buy them; "Step moms gone crazy" followed by "Wet young pussies".
I imagine cats after a bath. Hissing. Their eyes big and hateful. Oh, My mind isn't right.
My room smells peppery lately, I don't know what is up with that.
Falling out of love is even more exciting than falling in love.
Your stomach gets tight as you anticipate his words again, you shiver as your emotions return to a fragile and vulnerable state, your mind is sharp again, you're intelligent again.

You only feel that way because he does,
It burns, but you want to believe it.
Minor headache, disheartened feeling, regret, jaw is tight, stomach hurts.

I lie. I cuddle up in your arms. My eyes burn. How could I love you this much?
My cheeks hurt.

Everyone has one lame jump picture.

I want my fingers through your hair, my lips to your neck, the vibrant pleasure of comfort and ease that nearly control eager excitements from occurring. I want the taste of consumption, the near-sided dizziness of love intoxication, the foreign but flowing pleasures, I want the sexy snapshots of memory to return. I want the heat like when I used to get you ice water afterward. I want the exploration like the first time we really touched, I desire pleasure drunk gasps. I want you all alone, with a lot of time, a mission to accomplish, wet hair, uncontrollable desire and curtains.

"Nothing like a ruthless fuck you to clear up the situation" She laughed as she said to the tree. The tree laughed too.
To this laughter, they drank.

"Nothing like a nonchalant fuck you to cease the embellished lies" Said the laughing tree. And the girl laughed too.
To this they drank. And drank.

Two coffees and a tattoo later;
scabs and pride, laptops and candlelight.
I love you.