sparkingpeace reblogged
I’ll know I’ll never be the prettiest woman he’s had …and really, I don’t want that. I want to be the most tormenting. Disturbing him with wit and forcing smiles so violent they leave his face sore. I want to be the one that ripped the death straight from his chest. The one that got him addicted to scents of plum and the feel of pomegranate lipgloss gliding his skin. The one he imagines when he yearns for feminine release and to be relieved from marginalized masculinity. I want to be the seductive phantom haunting the corners of his bedroom when he’s cold with grief. The one that gave him the most romance, moments of irrationality, passion, strange strange urges, and life.
