i keep having dreams about death; mine, yours, my mothers, the stars. i wake up at peace with the dreams that come and never leave and creep into my awake moments. i only cry when the stars die i wonder what that says about me as a person. you would know wouldn't you, you've dreamt of my death so many times before but failed to call it a nightmare. i day dream of sizzling flesh. my arm burning and turning red and blistered as i hold the iron brand to my wrist. watch you  watching in silence, you don't call me disgusting. you don't tell me to stop. you sit there and i watch you fatten up at the sounds of my cries as i press the hot metal against my skin over and over again. i wonder if you like to hear me cry as much as i want you too. do you get pleasure from watching the tears run down my face. you call me when im crying and ask in a voice like sugar to moan your name. get myself messy as the stars scream. i wonder if you want to hurt me, make me cry out under your fingertips, spread my blood across my skin choke me until i cant breathe and i'm blue. would you like that? turning me all sorts of pretty colors. paint me the different shades of your love. show me what it feels like to take a punch. love shouldn't look like long sleeves and applying an antiseptic every night but the wounds you give me are the prettiest gifts i've ever gotten.