bluestruckholly: what do you want she askedand i begin typinguntil i backspace.i read the question…

bluestruckholly:

what do you want

she asked

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

than yours

so what if i love differently

than you

so fucking what if I worship another

than you do

i am here. i am alive.

i am not less worthy

than you.

i want to own myself.

– thoughts of a brown, pansexual, Muslim girl // day 12 // bluestruckholly

bluestruckholly: archon  your presence would make Adonis buckle. I would endure legions just…

bluestruckholly:

archon

 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

archon

 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

archon.

 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

archon

 is
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 dadTony:…

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…

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.

Wade:

Wade: fuck.

bluestruckholly: There are parts of your wrist only you know.The little bone jutting out on the…

bluestruckholly:

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,
tucked away

between my bones.

do you miss me still,
crawling

under my skin.

will you ever come back,
wound around

tight enough to draw blood.

– day 11 // bluestruckholly