The Asphyxiatrix

I smother my loves like a pillow placed over the face of a comatose someone to cover the breathing tubes – oh yes I do – choke them with thoughtfulness til they stop moving around so much – oh my love is such a horrible bludgeoning – with new constant rules on the smallest of things – my love sucks the oxygen out of your lungs like altitude sickness – small furry visions of broken veins float around, blot out, untwist themselves in the sheer grayness of sky – I and oh I just keep pushing you upward, keep shoving aside every side glance you take and the late hours of night – oh my love must be a thorn in your side or the fire that happened the night that you died and so stole the next headline. I swear that I’m trying to learn how to let my love breathe.


~ by perfectionatrix on April 26, 2013.

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