expect-me-not

don't expect me to believe a word you say, for i'm long past gentle promises and tender kisses. my soul is quaking against a bird-bone rib cage, snarling and spitting in frenzied anticipation, howling and crying for retribution that it cannot achieve. the ache is set deep into my bones, into my very veins, the very essence of my being. and i can't let it go. i want to slice nails down the skin of your back, slide fingers deep into the pockets of your flesh, bruise too-bare shoulders with my teeth.

don't anticipate any kindness, don't expect any softness, because i want to show you the brutality of my spirit firsthand. i want to inflict upon you the taint, the poison that sinks and spreads through hollowed femurs and flexing muscles. i want you to taste the blood and ash of destroyed souls on my tongue, taste the sick desire on my lips to taketaketake of you and give nothing back.

don't expect me to lie down idly while my heart is bursting at the seams with thorns and ivy and twisted metal, don't expect flowery words and soft rose petals and sheets of yielding silk and satin. i want to take the shards of my soul and write out never-coming-true wishes on your skin. i want to sink sharp teeth into your tongue and pull out the lies and well-maybe-it-couldn't-be 's that reside in the back of your mouth.

don't anticipate the feeling of euphoria to come to you gently, don't expect for me to be able to tip-toe through this quietly. i want to spell out your name in ink made from the blood that i stole from the corner of your lip, hiss agonies in growling protests down the slope of your trembling spine, and catch groans in the back of my throat when your words fail you and i have to capture your screams on my tongue.

don't expect me to cage this feral animal i've become, don't expect me to keep this echo of violence trapped inside my chest. it breathes with longing breath for heated nights and tangled sheets, half-shouted swears and bruising blows, crashing lips and harshly whispered i-love-yous in the biting cold. i can't put to rest this pacing beast of heart and soul, this crushing frustration that can be tattooed in dark purple ink blotches on your chest with teeth and fingers and tongue.

don't expect that from me, don't think that i can keep this all in a cage. because i'm wild and wide-eyed and rebellion done with the rose thorns in my sides and poison ivy itching through my veins. i'm done with the calloused hands and harsher biting words that have been used with singular sharpness against me. so don't be surprised to find out it's in my nature to bite back, don't be surprised to find out it's in my nature to bite hard. because i will. and i expect with greatest anticipation that you'll enjoy every soul-shaking moment of it.

i know i will.