My soul is always naked for someone to explore it, for someone to look at it but never to touch it.

My heart only works at night, trying to attract someone who would spend the night hearing what lustful desires it beats for cause in the daylight I would regret you.

My mind can’t stop looking for someone to love me. I flirt with anybody that smiles out of politeness but I always confuse it with desire. I keep on falling in love with strangers in the dirty corners of train stations and forgettable kiosks. I don’t know when I befriended desperation but now I can’t get rid of it. And if you can suck my feelings out of me I swear I could fall in love with you.

I am not selling any part of myself, I will give it to you for free as long as you promise you will love my darkness. I always use somebody to fuck me over just so I can hate them because I am damn tired of loving them.

I am a whore full of feelings and emotions. I take hearts so I can pay my rent to the art I am living in. I am a whore and Love is my pimp.

I Am A Whore Of Feelings by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

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