How much do I want you? Would you ask an alcoholic how much they want to drink?
The truth is, I don't want you, I need you. My body feels cold without yours against it. My lips are lonely when yours aren't on them. My tongue longs to dance with yours once more. I must explore every single curve of your body, every angle of your face. I'll count the hairs you have on your head if it proves that I want you. "God, you flatter me so much." You said. I just want you to desire me as much as I do. I'll butcher Spanish as much as you want me to. I'll let you call me an asshat, a douche canoe, if it makes you want me.
So how much do I want you? Mucho, beaucoup, molto, viel. Just so so much.
I don't want you
At least I don't think so
But I need you
Or that is how it feels
Here's the problem
The thing that troubles me
They always say
It's when you know you know
But I am scared
Because with you, I don't
“We can stay friends.”
No, we can't. The butterflies that flutter in my stomach at the sight of you won't just die. My skin will always remember the electric waves that your touch sends through it. I can't unlearn the curves of your tattoos, the angles of your face or the way you just fit in my arms perfectly.
No, we can't. Not when I myself stripped in front of you. Of my clothes, yes, but of my shell as well, so that you could see my weakest spots. Not when I tore down the walls that protected me because that's you wanted.
No, we can't. Because it's your face that I see when I wake up. Because my y soul longs for you. Because my body begs to reunite with yours. Because I love you and I can't not. We just ca-
"Yeah, sure... "
My origin story
*I wrote this a few years back for a school project. We had to invent a superhero's origine story and I thought I would show it.*
My name is Mors Susurro. Ever
since I was fourteen, I can communicate with the dead.
Actually, I have to talk to them. There is nothing I can do
to make them stop talking, except making sure the least
When I was a teenager, my friends and I played ouija. I
still regret going to that old abandoned warehouse. We
didn't believe anything would happen, alas we were so
wrong. We began the game. At first nothing happened,
but soon things got scary . Lights flickering, doors
slamming shut, creepy laughter all around us. Sophie was
the first to break the rules and take her hands off the
board. “I'm sorry guys, this is too much!” She said as tears
fell down her cheeks. She ran off but dropped dead on the
floor. Her brother Sam jumped up and screamed. He
shook her lifeless body but seconds after he fell dead as
well. The pointer moved and spelled out B-E C-A-R-E-F-U-L. My hands shaking, I moved it to the goodbye symbol.
I safely removed my fingers from the game. Although they
were dead, I still could hear my friends voices. “What
happened?” “Why did you do that?” The closer I got to the
bodies, the louder the words. I ran past old machinery and
heard “Thank god technology advanced, right buddy?” He
was talking to me. I couldn't see him but I knew this was
where he had died. I understood that the closer I got to
someone's place of death, the more I could talk with them.
I wish I had a good motive for saving people, but I'm
selfish. I just can't stand all the voices anymore. I just
don't want more people talking. The ghosts could help me
but I don't want to interact with them. I don't get close to but I don't want to interact with them. I don't get close to
people anymore, since they might die and I'll hear them.
The things dead say are anything but peaceful. I guess
I'm still a superhero since I save people, but I don't feel like one. I'm nothing but a death whisperer.
Story of my life
Always searching for purpose
Can't seem to find it
For me it goes like this
* * *
Ignite my skin
Feel my desire
Heat so sweet
Lips on fire
Quench the thirsty
My wild drive
Please have mercy
Colors of the rainbow
Color of anger
Yet the shade of love as well
Red, the first arrived
Grapefruit and sunsets,
Spessartite and citrine too
Second act, orange
Look at the bright sun
Or dandelion blossoms
In the trees, plants, the flora
This is to you, green
Cool, calm and frosted
The color of the vast sea
Beautiful, fifth blue
The lovely night sky
Reflected in the ocean
Next comes indigo
Like amethyst shards
Or the sweet grapes on a vine
Purple, last in line
I long for drama. I would give anything to escape the monotonous reality I live in. If only someone could cause a change.
I want to fight and joke. I want to feel my heart beat in my chest, blood rushing in my veins, air filling my lungs. I want to cry, laugh, love.
I wish for chaos, destruction or mayhem. I wish for something new, good or bad. I wish something happened. I swear, anything special would satisfy me.
“Do you even love them?”
Is what my stepmother told me after I admitted that the only reason I still lived with my father and her was because of my siblings. I suffered so much because I wanted to be a part of their lives and yet they questioned my love for them.
I could also name the time my father called me a hypocrite or when my evil witch of a stepmother said I was a bad friend, but they haven't hurt as much as the first.
They are happily out of my life and I don't want them back.