8Siren

i fill my lungs with blackberries & nicotine because it is the only way I can stomach the taste. a phoenix told me once that he could teach me how to burn properly, as if scolding had preferences [ like the intercostal  spaces of a ribcaged  embrace.              ] he fell in love with my words first, before he knew the height of my cheekbones or the annoying sound of my laugh. he said he could count all my scars on one hand- even the ones that wake me at 3 am with an itch i swear begs me to rip them open again. & i told him he could keep his pretty words and fiery fingers creatively away from me. i am tired of smelling of hell & as