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your steel—toed boots, your handguns.

dad’s theory was — you got two fighting dogs, you send the weak one away. you punish the weak one.

we are more than just another movie moment. i’m not gonna wait for rain for me to kiss you.

i am the devil’s daughter.

i am not ruined. i am ruination.

desire as a promise.  desire as a holy knife, lodged deep in the body.

so why these stubborn tears? and why do i dream almost every night of holding you again, or at least of diving after you, my long—gone, through the bruised unbalanced waves?

darling, dearest, dead.

i kiss the scar slashed across your stomach. the one i put there. i am saying: i’m sorry. i am saying: you’re welcome.

faith is like a father. here. not here.

what part of yourself did you have to destroy in order to survive in the world this year? but most importantly: what have you found to be unkillable?

then he looked back to me, and smiled. it was a terrible expression, filled with edges, and with knives.

i begin to feel a new tenderness towards you, very raw and unfamiliar, like what i remember of love when i was young.

i hope you die. i hope we both die.

hand on my neck. fist by my eye. up to his wrists in the center of me, pulling it all apart. this love that takes us from bloodsport to slaughterhouse. i’ve had nightmares end more gently than that.

i turn cruel when i am empty. if i cannot be loved i must be feared.

all this time i thought we were strangers, and it turned out we knew each other intuitively. in our bones, in our blood.

my feelings for you are biblical; that is they are intense, reckless, arrogant, risky and unconcerned with the way of the world. i flaunt my bleeding wounds, madden with my certainty.

funny, out of the two of us, you always were the gentle one. shy little rabbit, teething on a shotgun.

playing in the swamp of alligator blood behind our house, in the marshy lawn, he’d always hold my head under the water a little too long.