November 27, 2017.
pretty boys and xanax
Don’t fall for pretty boys and xanax.
Their kisses taste like nicotine and regret.
I can’t feel pain the same way.
But the first time it hurts, the second just the same.
Third times a charm, and number four leads to self blame.
Falling in love is the quickest way to kill yourself.
Listen to me, fragile self esteem-
flower children who hide behind smiles.
I know you. You want love but theirs is far-
from what you expected.
These kind of boys will only scar you,
there’s no strength or lessons to be collected
Don’t get drugs and love confused
If you’re addicted, let him go before he kills you
You go through withdrawl, but he stays strong
Let that sort of pain travel up your veins
Until you’re afraid to even touch him.
I don’t want love,
I’ve took it in many forms.
My arms are bruised,
my veins feel used.
I’ll squeeze out your drug and watch the venom drip like an IV.
Am I on life support with you?
You know that I love you and you use that to kill me slowly.
I've met boys with cocaine palms that leave your skin numb.
They hold onto you with strong grips that feel like soft caresses.
I've met girls with heroin lips that leave you begging for more.
They work as a sedative, but you just feel drowsy.
I think the important thing to understand is that love isn't a drug.
It's the people; they all have their own pressures and relief.
And we all have these moments where we're just so fucking weak
that our own drug doesn't work anymore.
I'm not sure what drug I am yet.
I'm probably something cheap that leaves you with a headache.
But he's an acid trip
With a bitter aftertaste.
Poetry by aidan haskel
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Written on 2017-11-27 at 21:16
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