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“

I don’t want anything from him

except his red apple heart.

Something I can bite into quickly

without making a mess.

If you asked him,
he’d claim he’s never met anyone
kinder, so please don’t say anything
about this.

All I want from him is his love.

The fruit of it. The sweet stuff.

All I want is to keep it inside of me

and then move along, because

I don’t like being touched more
than I liked being looked at.

Is it so terrible that I want

to be bigger than him? That I

don’t want to want more than

I need from a person?

I don’t think that’s bad, but

people keep telling me to

apologize for chewing with my

mouth open, so what am

I supposed to do with a whole

heart in there?


How am I going to eat it quietly?

Just give me the thing with no

hands so that I can go to sleep

without them around my neck.


I don’t want the body of love

like I used to. I don’t want to

be kissed.
Well, maybe I do, but not now.

When I close my eyes, I’m a statue
that he wants to run his tongue over.
When I close my eyes, I cut it off
and keep it.

” — Caitlyn Siehl, Eyes Closed (via alonesomes)