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mon amour, je t'adore.

love is sweet, dearest, but it cannot change a man’s nature.

give me your heart & i hold it, show me your soul & i'll mold it.

i am my own muse. i am the subject i know best. the subject i want to better.

‘cause the truth ain’t pretty, my dear.

she reached out & brushed a strand of hair from my face. it's maternal, in the way a woman can be for another woman, tender. gentle. fierce.

you're all i want my dear, my dear, my dear.

greed’s gonna make me confess all my desires.

my dark angel.

bitch, i have it all.

love has turned on me, / & now i am its liar.

soon you'll learn that there's no room for love in a woman's life. there's only one thing you'll need, & that's patience.

screw poetry, it's you i want.

july was heat & survival & i was tired. i was waiting for august; the nights in august; its precise, violet dark.

he wasn't mine & i wasn't his but he was so good at making me feel like we belonged to each other.

the touch of an angel, the taste of a drug.

no weapon formed against me shall ever prosper.

أن الله يُخبِئكَ لَمن يشبهُك، فَلن يَصل إليك إلا مَن يَحمل في روُحه شيئاً من روحِك.

& now i can't even recognize myself anymore, / you turned me into this.

is that all you want to be, liked ׅ𖤠 wouldn’t you rather be passionately & voraciously desired ׅ𖤠

i’ve known so many who think they’re pure & noble. but in their moment of truth, are weak & afraid.