and you’re riding me
you’re riding me

i know to only follow orders
i live to bend under for
you—-

yes go straight i know—-

my hot flushed face
and my pride staring at me from up at the floor
weakening fingers
their scrabble on my shaking legs like dust—-

sorry you wanted me to turn to the left—-

the riding crop is buried deep and sharp, hurtful, into your palms
but it’ll be okay
since i’ll be receiving that same pain later, anyways—-

the right the right i’m sorry i’ll move to the right—-

i’m sorry don’t leave me don’t walk out the door

you’re the only person in my life whose hugged me caressed me

no one else would kiss me touch me give me food too and whisper in my ear—-

it’s faster i go then alright—-

i need you i need you
even when i’m bloody and senseless (because of you) i need you

i’ve been with you all along
don’t leave.

and you’re riding me
you’re riding me—-

are you sure I should go forward? that’s the edge of a cliff there—

you’ve been so good to me for so long
so it’s okay if you’ve been bad to me sometimes
for the good you’ve been to me i will stay and learn not to cry
for the bad i stay and obey your orders in the hope that you will change—-

stop! stop stop! i don’t want us to die!—-

i’ve been good to you for so long
so it’s okay if you stay—-

but you’re riding me you’re riding me—-

later will you leave me for dead?

(can’t speak because dead)—-

"All that we are is a result of what we have thought."

— Buddha (via tb92sma)

(Source: feminerrd)

Sky Nostalgia

professional, smart and beautiful

professional, smart and beautiful

Believe?

listen to the

listen to the

-Ode to F.Rabbit-

-Ode to F.Rabbit-

Tags: frabbit

Poetic And Beautiful

To Explain The Soulless

How Is It

How is it

that when I run my thumbs over his thighs
and breathe, “Darling,” into his red, shiny, hair-tipped ears

i feel less
even less for him

than the girl who lived to call him, “Sir,”
and to run her thumb over the red tangle for words that he scrawled onto her essays

i want to tell her
“You can’t hold him nor his was because we’re still going it at like rabbits,” but

five years ago

i was that girl too

who lived to warm his hands on her flask
and to tell dirty jokes and banter with

tied her hair in braids so he could tug on them
scratched her knees on purpose so he could blow on them

until

one evening he pulled her aside
and told her, “I’d gladly go to jail for you.”

She peeled apart and there was I.