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phoebe Mar 2020
i could write a thousand poems about how your eyes look like galaxies and i’m simply born a stargazer or how your smile makes my tongue taste stardust

but instead

i’ll paint a picture of how you turn a hurricane mess like myself into something so sweet. a beautiful rainbow. and i’ll paint a picture of how you make my hands tremble and how you make a lump in my throat every time you speak.
phoebe Mar 2020
red laced button up shirts and long shoulder length golden honey hair
he was carefully handcrafted, and i knew god took his time on this sunkissed angel. i just hope he had me in mind when he made the sun angel’s soulmate.

sun baby can play the harp with my ribcage and it’ll still sound heavenly because anything he touches will never turn to stone; they’ll simply be crystalline.

i wish to be as enchanting as my sun angel, but he doesn’t have any beauty to spare, he’s very greedy. he likes to absorb all the light from the sun, and keep it for himself. baby, i may like the dark but i like you even more.

i feel like i have summer’s guilt chilling my bones, and i can see him in the rear view mirror with his brightly beaming aura

so hold your breath, we’ll be just fine.
phoebe Mar 2020
the smoke started to follow you
and this was expected
because smoke does follow beauty
and you're constantly surrounded by it
with the lit end of your cigarette

the slender cigarette is resting between your ******* and you inhale the nicotine that is living in your lungs
sometimes i want to rip it out of your mouth and squish it with my the tip of my boot
but instead, i stay put because only you can make death look so marvelous.
phoebe Mar 2020
you have moon dust in your veins
and i want to taste the cosmos!

take my body away
toss it onto the pile
of all your rag dolls
and mistakes.
i'm just a vhs tape waiting
to finally be used and wanted.

you are a human blood bath
filled with destruction and wars
you taste like redemption
and i'm wondering if all the dying gods
taste the way you do.
phoebe Mar 2020
OH MY KILLER HADES
KISS ME UNTIL MY LIPS ARE BLUE
AND I START SEEING THE GALAXY NOT ONLY IN YOUR EYES BUT AROUND OUR BODIES!

grip my hips and shove our chests together as your ******* runs up and down my spine
my eyes are shimmering with jupiter's kiss, and you can see the planets and stars within them.

there's euphoria running through my crimson veins as you kiss my ivory skin, and i swore i felt my entire soul gravitate towards you as you harshly ripped it out with just one kiss

i'm calling you a melancholic enigma
as you're prying the truth from the gaping
wound in my chest that you ripped my soul out of

my heaving lungs are begging for fresh air
that isn't stolen, but you're such a **** thief,
you gave me your last angel's air and told me to work with it.

you're slitting my wrists and bathing in the crimson blood
as you then push my head after telling me how pretty i look. you're suffocating me with your sins.

OH BABY, TOUCH ME AND MAKE ME FEEL YOUR PAIN! RIP ME APART LIKE IM SOME KIND OF ****** ART AND THROW ME AWAY!

my nails are digging deep into your skin
and i'm arching my back as i'm seeing
nothing but black
you're bathing me in our sins
and i'm drowning in the ocean
that used to be love

then, i heard your voice.
your harsh voice.
you demand
not ask
not whisper
you demand.

"SCREAM MY NAME, MY LOVE."

OH HONEY,
IM SCREAMING RUINATION.
phoebe Mar 2020
i learned that love bites
don’t always mean
‘i love you.’
this was part of a full poem, but i’m editing that and might not post it? so here’s my favorite line that i had in it.
phoebe Mar 2020
he was warm and his torso was wrapped with moonlight cologne, sweat & ink. he’s a filthy boy who loves being bruised up by innocent girls who don’t know any better, my hands are on his chest and my lips are touching his neck.

2. he was older. wiser. he made me forget who i was and i no longer knew myself because of him. but i loved him. so i got used to it.

3. i guess you can say he taught me how to make all of the pretty boys cry in euphoria and cry tears of neediness.

4. he had fingers that felt like acid, but also felt like a god putting me back together again after breaking me. his words cut me like a blade, but he kissed my wounds.

5. he didn’t love me, but i loved him. he claimed to, but i knew better. he was older. wiser. rougher. i was too soft for this man, but i got used to it.
i’ve been writing a lot of poetry in this kind of way (numbered) so you’ll probably be seeing a lot of poems in this format.
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