Every view they hold on you’sA piano out of tuneYou’re an angelYou’re a demonYou’re just human (x)—You tell her she’s ugly so you won’t reveal how beautiful you find her. You call her Manhands so you don’t let slip how much you’d love to hold those hands, and press your lips to her delicate fingers. When you kiss the boyfriend you’ve both tossed back and forth, you shut your eyes and imagine it’s her under you; her hand slipping too far down your back and her tongue exploring your mouth. He never understands the disappointment on your face when you look up at him.She wants to spy on the competition. You offer to drive her. She wants a spread in the school yearbook — you sharpen your claws and make it happen.  She says she wants a new nose and though you’d gladly give her your own on a silver platter, she simply has you be the model for her doctor. (You don’t tell her she’s perfect exactly as she is. But oh God, you want to.)When she sings with you, you have to physically hold yourself down on the stool so you don’t interrupt mid-song to brush a fallen strand of hair out of her eyes. You swear she sees right through you anyway. She always does. You slap her at Prom so you don’t kiss her. Your hand hits her beautiful face and you wish it was your lips instead — your voice admitting how you’ve long you’ve loved her, how you love everything about her (especially her nose). Maybe she knows; hand on cheek she eyes you as if you’ve done exactly what you’d wanted and you have to quickly play back the events to make sure you at least tried to hurt her. She needs to see you as a threat. God forbid she hear your heart beating her name. You keep her at a distance so she won’t know how you ache for her because if she did, she’d drop everything and stay for you. All you’ve ever wanted is for her dreams to come true and you will never be her dream. She’s meant for so much better than you. One day her name will be in lights, engraved in the stars, and you’ll love her from miles away, knowing she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. You’ll give up happy so she can be. —I wish we weren’t conceived in violence… 

Every view they hold on you’s
A piano out of tune
You’re an angel
You’re a demon
You’re just human (x)


You tell her she’s ugly so you won’t reveal how beautiful you find her. You call her Manhands so you don’t let slip how much you’d love to hold those hands, and press your lips to her delicate fingers. When you kiss the boyfriend you’ve both tossed back and forth, you shut your eyes and imagine it’s her under you; her hand slipping too far down your back and her tongue exploring your mouth. He never understands the disappointment on your face when you look up at him.

She wants to spy on the competition. You offer to drive her. She wants a spread in the school yearbook — you sharpen your claws and make it happen.  She says she wants a new nose and though you’d gladly give her your own on a silver platter, she simply has you be the model for her doctor. (You don’t tell her she’s perfect exactly as she is. But oh God, you want to.)

When she sings with you, you have to physically hold yourself down on the stool so you don’t interrupt mid-song to brush a fallen strand of hair out of her eyes. You swear she sees right through you anyway. She always does.

You slap her at Prom so you don’t kiss her. Your hand hits her beautiful face and you wish it was your lips instead — your voice admitting how you’ve long you’ve loved her, how you love everything about her (especially her nose). Maybe she knows; hand on cheek she eyes you as if you’ve done exactly what you’d wanted and you have to quickly play back the events to make sure you at least tried to hurt her. She needs to see you as a threat.

God forbid she hear your heart beating her name.

You keep her at a distance so she won’t know how you ache for her because if she did, she’d drop everything and stay for you. All you’ve ever wanted is for her dreams to come true and you will never be her dream. She’s meant for so much better than you.

One day her name will be in lights, engraved in the stars, and you’ll love her from miles away, knowing she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. You’ll give up happy so she can be. 


I wish we weren’t
conceived in violence…
 

posted 2 years ago with 50 notes


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