Pretty Boys Are Poisonous: Poems

by Megan Fox

I am at once jaded and naive.

i used to believe love was a poem now i know love is a killing spree

my heart stretches eager to encapsulate your wounds let me heal you.

fucked-up fairy tales

pretty boys are poisonous

when beautiful boys turn into evil things you will find that bibles and silver bullets will fail you

you will let him feast on your tears and your self-esteem and when he walks away with your soul in his mouth you will pray for death but instead you will live forever as the monster he turned you into • lessons in hot-boy demonology

my protector my abuser my captor my friend my love the creature that seeks me when he is thirsty for tears

fated like prometheus, chained to the rock, i offer my heart to you every morning and like the insatiable eagle you return every day to gleefully consume it

greek tragedies lose their poetry when you live them

keep running from yourself avoid the mirror use me instead

how many times have you watched me die and still you don’t realize that you are the reaper

but what’s the difference between manslaughter and murder? i’m still dead either way

you are an addiction that no amount of prayers will ever cure

you’re imprisoned by all of the demons you’ve bartered with renting space in your body to them in exchange for a life that doesn’t even make you happy why do you sacrifice me to feed the things that haunt you

true love’s kiss was a cancer not a cure

your love leaves bloodstains on my bedsheets

and to the girl who gave me her entire life for nothing in return i leave my violence and my resentment may she suffocate under the weight of all of my unhealed childhood trauma

i’m not a zealot i didn’t come here to die for your sins you crucify me then beg me to be your redeemer hanging the weight of your salvation around my neck like a noose

maybe the original sin was a man taking a woman for granted

she was just a woman who refused to get on all fours so an insecure man could feel like a god

baptized by fire he speaks destruction because chaos was his first language his forgiveness isn’t free his love leaves scars

he’ll never change because he made a home in the sorrow he built a castle out of rage

you’d be so much more handsome if you’d get an exorcism

she was born in the wilderness she has dirt on her hands and stars in her hair

i am realizing that this fairy tale will not have a happily ever after instead it will end prematurely with one of us reading a eulogy

why am i still worshipping at the altar of your broken promises

i am learning that it is better to be a monster than to be hunted by one

i trusted in the unseen and now there is a sequoia standing where that naive sapling used to be i’ve outgrown you and no matter how much you cry or beg i will never be your giving tree