i feel like a singularity, consuming consuming consuming, taking more than i could possibly give. i soak up adoration and thrive on hate and something inside me grows like a fucked up houseplant, inward and inward and inward, concaving into a vacuum.
i take up your sky, trying to refect your sun without allowing you to see it. i eclipse the thing that is all-consuming. i am becoming the absence of light, absorbing instead of shining.
mathematically speaking, when you multiply a negative with a positive your result will still be negative, but you keep arguing with fact by integrating good things into my equation and trying to prove the structure of the universe wrong. But here i am–turning your roses into this bleak landscape, internalizing your joy and twisting it, using you for feelings that are useless to me.
because if you pry my ribcage open, you wouldn’t find a chestful of flowers, and the beating heart would be an illusion, because in my soul i feel like an empty cavern, storing thoughts that my father keeps telling me to stop thinking and that the morning news experts inform me aren’t real
because my surface is the illusion of normal, painted with the right skincare and the perfect eyeliner and an understated smile
but if you knock on my chest softly, maybe you’ll hear the hollow.
It was one of the best days in her life after Jr was born, and the blonde girl was standing in front of the altar looking at the man near her. He was beautiful like nobody else, his blue eyes enchanting her every second more. She was so excited that she wanted only to say “yes” and escape with him far far away, spending the rest of her days with the man of her life. Zoe was holding her white bouquet against her chest; sun refecting the little beads of her white dress. It was finally happening, Finn was going to be her husband, or maybe she hoped. @balorthedemonking