

IX. technicolor dreamsyou know, i'm almost tempted to rip out all these pages, start anew- but leave the poems and writings and all the things i don't want anyone to see. just in case i ever let you read this, someday.IX. technicolor dreams
like you wanted.
but if that's the case, will you let me read you? the looks, and gestures, and circles beneath your eyes that i alre


VIII. a note on self-injury. let me be the first to tell you that cutting doesn't bring about the same pain that an accidental slice, abrasion, wound, or nick does. relief, calm, focus, release, yes- but pain? hardly. a doctor might tell you that the two wounds are the same. but any cutter will tell you that no other scrape or cut will run as read, as true- with as much force as that which is self-inflicted. a cut, you see, is perfect. it's kind. it's understanding. it washes away all chaos and emotional turmoil with beads of red (and if you're deep enough, mVIII. a note on self-injury.


VII. easter kissesand the way you held me threw me off, like you knew just what i needed, had heard my broken-hearted conversation the night before. and the whole time i'm screaming, "i didn't plan this, i didn't plan this!" but no sound comes out because your head's resting near my heartbeat, somehow warming my whole body. and if my answers to your sweet words weren't sufficient, maybe the way i stroked your hair was, watched your eyes close and your hands roam the inside, outside of my curves, kissing you harder this time, &nbsVII. easter kisses
--
- Rorschach
--
-thank.the.stars.
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