| Soda_Voxel |
touch starvation dreamer
A desperation that claws at my back, my scalp, my hands
So childlike, so innocent, the desire to be loved
and such drastic, oxymoronic measures
I would take to get it.
A wanting, no, a needing, a craving
To be rocked gently, to the sound of rainfall
The feeling of palms running up and down my bare back
Still, understanding whispers, soft as feathers,
fluttering lips uttering every single thing I've ever needed to hear.
To have my body intertwine with another
in a comfortable bed, their warm body a safe haven.
To have my wounds tended and bound in gauze,
and the weapon of my actions taken slowly from my hands.
I would isolate myself, tear myself apart,
throw myself against wall and wall again,
just for the hope -
or rather, the delusional fantasy -
that somebody would appear to me,
help me in my pain,
and love me, love me, love me,
and love me again.
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