I want to bleed like beautiful poetry,
Drown in a sinister Scarlett and fall asleep forever.
Instead, I filled my body with poisonous healings and watched them ooze from my precious wounds.

Death is a dark beauty, and I'm a mere animal. I am
lucky to have touched it.
To scrape my fingernails across its surface and wonder how I'd feel if I were engulfed.

Since death was around the corner
my body has been wracked with disappointment.
I'm still sad and I'm still alive.

You turn me on sometimes.
My heart beats fast, I'm already off the tracks but your hand is there to guide me
As it crawls up my thighs, up my sides, I'm not faking those cries
because you turn me on sometimes.

The way you hold my waist as you press me into your face,
it makes me tremble prematurely.
It makes me shiver in delight for the rest of the night.
You turn me on sometimes.

At 7am, when you wake me up
with an elbow to the face and my pulse starts to race.
Then it's whispered nothings about how hard you want to **** makes my hips start to Buck and just when I think I'm out of luck, you reply to my text:
"do you want to meet up?"
And my fingers will twitch because
you turn me on sometimes.

Feeling safe with you turns me on sometimes.
Your face against mine, checking if I'm fine even if just dropping me a line turns me on sometimes.
Sitting in class hoping for time to pass whilst all I think about is your hands on my *** whilst I'm
Biting my lip, clasping the water that I sip, try not to blush, your words do not rush,
I think to myself as you sit silently beside me.
You turn me on sometimes.