if u don’t think I am a princess that’s embarrassing for you
A girl in my creative writing class said this in response to a story we read about witnessing intimate partner violence and it really fucked with my head because I’ve never, ever, ever, thought of it that way. (via astronomized)
I slipped my artist jeans on so I would stop counting your fingerprints
that have been permanently pressed in between my thighs.
“What the hell are those? They look better when they’re off.”
I locked myself in the bathroom and in the bathtub, soaked everything I’ve ever written about you.
This is what it means to kick back with your creations.
Last Sunday evening in the same bathroom,
the same bathtub full of vodka and grapefruit juice.
“You should talk some skin off your stomach and tell it to cover up those bony knees”
Heavy breathing and flushed coral colouring.
This is why I pull the plugs, why the lights are always off.
Your tongue hid things while you spoke to me.
It hides other mouths, other women, other stories, all their comfort.
“I don’t feel guilty. I can’t sympathize. I just don’t fucking feel things. Leave me the hell alone.”
My grandmother once told me to let the dead rest,
to stop digging, to understand how they cannot defend themselves.
I came back for one last visit — to drain the bathtub and in your bedroom,
help you swallow the dirt I dug from your grave but she said,
“This side was never yours.”
I shut the door.
I am letting you decay on the surface of everything you touch.
Alessia Di Cesare, When You Told Me To Talk My Skin Off (via featherumbrellas)