what do you want
and i begin typing
until i backspace.
i read the question again
like it’s high school all over again
another paper i didn’t study for.
what do i want?
why is that so difficult to answer?
why does it make me
swallow ice shards and pierce my throat?
this should be easy
this should be a cursory glance
at a page i’ve already memorised.
i don’t know why
i’m scared of my own desires.
what do you want
blinks at me from the screen
and there is no simple way
to say this,
what i’ve been taught not to say.
i want to be happy
and, fuck, when did that
become a controversial thought
when did someone else decide whether
my life was worth living or not
i want freedom
and so what if my skin is darker
so what if i love differently
so fucking what if I worship another
than you do
i am here. i am alive.
i am not less worthy
i want to own myself.
– thoughts of a brown, pansexual, Muslim girl // day 12 // bluestruckholly
your presence would make Adonis buckle. I would endure legions just to
admire you from afar. never has my soul threatened to leap out of my throat
until you turned your gaze on me
not even Poseidon could tame this fire within me. my back has never felt
anything softer than these silk sheets save for your palms. my fingers may be
grasping for handholds but my heart has already found the ridges on your calves
and the grooves over your arms
a r c h o n
the Xiphos only serves a master as dual in nature as itself. only fools hope
to soften the blade of you. still there I was, surprised when a knife did what
a knife was born to do: stab
how would Medusa turn you, for you are already made of stone. you placed
me in a room with crowns, kingdoms and every one of your conquests. your sword
has spilt the blood of a thousand men yet your greatest victory lies in forgetting
every part of me like a speck of dust
it any wonder Achilles turned into an animal to avenge his love? rage has never
caused trembling arms, only tighter grips on daggers. the one time you were
open with me, I had to crack open your torso and take your heart out myself
– day eight // bluestruckholly
Tony: I’m not a regular dad. I’m a cool dad.
Peter: you’re not even a dad
Tony: you’re grounded
Wade: Okay, Peter. If I was the last man on Earth, would you date me then?
Peter: if you were the last man, I wouldn’t exist.
There are parts of your wrist only you know.
The little bone jutting out on the right side.
The scars under the crease. I called mine
The list of things I want to say
But never will.
I have hidden away every last word here.
why did you leave,
between my bones.
do you miss me still,
under my skin.
will you ever come back,
tight enough to draw blood.
– day 11 // bluestruckholly
Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, it’s ‘intelligent’ and ‘really cool’ but when I do it I’m ‘petty’ and ‘need to let it go’.
– Deadpool, definitely
lmao if you ain’t figured out my main yet you haven’t followed me for long