Don't fall in love with us. You won't just fall, we'll crack your bones down to the marrow with our thoughts. We'll ashen your mind with our unabashed laugh. We'll take you to places unknown to watch the sunrise, we'll drag you to open fields to gaze at the stars and you'll search for constellations on our body. We'll run races with you on the empty roads at 3am in the night and cuddle with you and wine in the afternoon's warmth.
We don't hashtag good hair days, we half-shave them and paint them neon to shine in the club. Our lipsticks are blood-red with brown eyes and black kohl, earthy, raw and rich with mysteries you can't solve. We are loud with a love for noir, ebony and taupes, a paradox for a myriad of colours in our head. So, you won't just fall.... We'll imprint your soul with the taste of our ichor.
We're not boxed into society's norms and cultural bonds, yet you'll find us worshiping goddesses with swords. We're a nonchalant deep river bustling with energy that will ravish you. Not fragile like flowers, we're thorns on the bush which you can't handle.
We live for nights to kiss your demons, we smile as our fingernails caress your fears. We don't care for your fortunes, we are intrigued by your wit and sense of humour. Not dates and romance, give us road trips with Imagine Dragons, Arctic Monkeys, Hozier and Linkin Park. We crave the aroma of hardcover new books. Puzo, Rowling and Hosseini reside in our hearts.
We don't love, we consume. We don't hate, we become apathetic. We don't hurt, we maim. We don't cry, we embrace the pain like a crown.
We're not made for romance novels. We're not made for pink. We're not made for cute.
We're made for wild.
We're made for sins.
We're made women with loaded guns.
We're beasts you can't tame.
We're not typical.
© 2018 Maddie Sawyer