he does not pull his punches

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fear burns black burns white burns like a candle in an empty house who lit you and left you on fire my love why do you flinch when i close the door? do you remember the last time you were afraid, mi amor? do you remember the last time your blood cells rushed to the surface of your skin do you remember the last time the back of your neck pulsed white-hot in panic? do you remember what it is to have your heart vibrate? i do not. or maybe i do. maybe im so scared all the time that i dont know. maybe im used to the quickening of my heart rate maybe im so used to being afraid maybe i dont know what that means anymore. i am not afraid i am not afraid i am not afraid. my mother is yet to be proud of her fearless daughter. looking the devil in the eyes and telling him with my hand on his chest that he is not welcome in a place of worship of love or light of a house so bright he cannot even see it so holy he cannot taint it. my mother is yet to be proud of the daughter who wears a bullet around her neck my mother is yet to be proud of a daughter who can take a hit my mother is yet to be proud of a girl of a daughter that stands straight fists shaking in anger not fear never fear fists shaking in anger standing straight standing fucking strong standing with a purpose. my mother is yet to be proud of the girl who stands as a shield. my mother is yet to be proud of the mistakes she has made.

ur sleeping on the couchKde žijí příběhy. Začni objevovat