let me raise square one over my head like a battle flag. back in the same place I was as a single *******. nothing more and nothing less. don't look at me here, forget I'm there, driven by a desire to fill the dark abyss.

and the Adulteress wins again.
the girl gets the bed
and the Adulteress has the rest.
A hellish romance,
formed from a devilish grin,
the Adulteress holds his soul
in her heartless hands.
Cruel intentions on an adventure
to take them all,
and the Adulteress
leads the quest
never getting hurt
in her bulletproof vest.
It won't end until
the Adulteress finds her best fit

Swimming away from me. In a sea of broken promises, endless hurt, blood and black and blue. Turn the key and lock the door, throw it to the floor. Cry some more. Towards the open ocean, towards the choice you’ve chosen. I’ll never find you, not here, not there. And I’ve nothing left to give but a bitter grin. I’ll find the color jade and make it in my own way. Sharp and jagged edge to deter anyone else from half-assed attempts to sew the pieces back together and make me whole again

A little lie here and there
years of trends
we couldn't stand
different rooms, separate beds.  
don't trust those two
alone together.
see it now
and tell the truth
say what they
would never hear;
we are
nothing but
two good people
who do bad things

romance?
all I've known
for a while now
is a foreign touch
unfamiliar,
a caress of the neck
leads to nothing more
than a question:
'can you lock the door?'
for reasons I'm unsure,
this could be my fate
if I no longer
wish to wait
for the real thing,
to hold someone again

“I’m sorry.” The words were mumbled under minty breath, barely a plea in their delivery.

Eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding contact with his. He stood his ground while her left foot pushed out and tapped the toe of his shoe gently.

For a moment she appeared to be a puppy with her tail between her legs, getting a scolding for ******* on the living room rug again. Her dark hair hung around her shoulders, limp, like sad dog ears sagging against her head.

Allowing her voice to sink in, he tilted her chin up with one hand, forcing their gaze to meet.

One moment was all that was needed to know she didn’t mean it.  She would do it again.

The choice was his.
Torture himself, or abandon ship.

October arrived with the force of a hurricane.
I am left with nothing but a cold bed
and the crunch of the first fallen leaf.
No one to give warmth but I,
as 2015 eagerly waits
at the alter
to be given away.

throw thoughts aside
and take a hit
meaning disguised
as soulless ***
frictionless fire
skin to skin
if it's what I think
I must stop my sins.

Can't establish the texture of his hair in words.
Detached from envisioning the exact shade of blue
in his eyes.
Unable to recollect the precise placement of the freckles
on his shoulders.
At one point I could sense each individual thing
as if it was my own.
What does it mean?

There has been enough distance between
that these things
can fade away
without a
trace

Giving more
than a drunken 'hey'
is hard to manage
in this day and age.
Even a woman like me
wants more than that.
No ***** calls
is a bit of a stretch.
Pet my head,
tell me I'm pretty,
ask me to sleep in your bed.
I'll still be that girl
you text for ***
at 2 AM.

Was I in love with you when I shoved my tongue down another person’s throat?

This question I’m asked, on the spot, left with my thoughts, sift through and find the truth. Four months in, there I was, grinding on a stranger, staring at your jealous texts while someone else’s junk was rubbing up against me. Guilt so tough I wanted to puke. Promising and failing to never hurt you again. Some secrets are better left unsaid.

Officer, please, I was in love. Why wouldn’t I be?

I failed the sobriety test?
Of course: No choice but to feel the worst. A liar gets in too deep.

I’ll take the plea bargain;
One lie for you. One lie for me.

Loneliness comes in many forms.
For me, it's a raging stream,
trying to pull me underneath.
It's a pillow I sleep with
that suffocates my lungs.
It's the sound of laughter
filling the room while I stand outside the door.
It's a devil on my shoulder, daring me
to cry some more.
It's a weight pressing on my chest
And no one is there to save me.
It's staring at the empty bed
and wondering when
someone will fill the space again.

and in the year of the Dragon
I kissed a forehead with lips of nothing but love
the kind that hurt, shoved heat
through my mouth and down his throat,
burned our souls from the inside out

and in the year of the Horse
the flame died out

Never had it. The  peach skin of an early morning move-in. Freshmen, fresh faces, awkwardly sharing smiles with those in the same boat.
Wondering what college will hold.
I have been stunted by the changing of the guards, never a need for an open heart.
Too many different places and not enough to settle down.
Never a chance to feel the feeling.
Regrets or not. I can't do much.

skips on a vinyl, replayed so often
there's nothing left but broken sound.

a crinkled old photo floating
to the floor.

the continual blurring of video footage
in my brain.

the memories faded
but the feeling never went away.

Time remains my enemy

Time's the reason
I couldn't see the future

to know the Timing was off.

Time doesn't care that it failed
from nothing but a broken clock.

the face stopped moving
but Time did not

Under the identical night sky as yours,
I fill my lungs with the sweet smoke,
knowing you're doing the same thing
miles away.
you, the need to fit in,
me, wishing to forget my sins
you, a sense of belonging with your friends,
me, alone, wondering who I became.

through the haze, I see your face.

I don't believe in heaven,
couldn't find a reason.
If I get to live after I die,
I'd rather live another life.

Is it too much to ask
for your friendship
and your ***, too?

what are you scared of?

is it really me, or is it you?

we're teetering at the edge of a roller coaster's hill
quietly taking each other in like it's the first time we met and then

we pummel back down to the reality of earth which is:
I left you and ever since
we put up a front to forget.
filled with men who want to penetrate me,
and your girls and their flashing poisoned teeth.

it's a reality that we will not face:
perhaps it's not simple loneliness, but fate.

there are times I want to use him
dig my nails under his skin and tear him limb to limb

the moment passes and the truth is this:
after all this time I still want
the chest I lie on to go to sleep to be his

weeks can pass and we reunite
in a grassy patch under summer moonlight
and I breathe his scent and wonder
if he's figured it out yet

"Ten things you understand
if you're this or that"
screams the title of another Internet list,
where people go to feel they're not alone,
scroll through a generalized view of our age group,
a world so relate-able you're no longer you,
you're a '90s kid' or a 'tomboyish girl';
we all want to be unique,
yet we buy into this stereotyping technique
to feel connected with people we'll never meet.
Is it strange that I want to define 'me'?
not a lengthy list on a computer screen,
not strangers who lump me into a category.
I'll tell me what I want to be.

We're sixteen again,
sneaking around at night,
pouring rain in the summertime,
quiet whispers in your teenage bed,
heavy breaths and covered mouths,
don't wake up the rents

And like I'm sixteen,
not turning twenty-two,
I don't know better than to break my addiction
and I come back again
to feel the poisoned fingers on my skin

my fear of romantic relationships encircles me and I question:

Do you like me?
Am I annoying you?
Did I say something wrong?

And I push away the good ones as easily by my insecurities as I drew them in by with my air of confidence.

my heart stays still to remember this is about use
emotionless nothing, yet our foreheads touch in that moment of sweet sweat and heavy breaths
I try to hold it in laying next to you in the bed but
running my fingers through the blonde hair on your head
makes me want to tell you everything again

spring has sprung.
little tree buds stretch their arms
from a long, dead winter,
opening up to lap up the sun.

the walk to school becomes
less of a chore and
more of an excuse to be outdoors.

the grass turns as green
as it was before,
thick dark blades peeking through
dry brown dirt.

the world lives again,
under a roof of bright blue sky,
canopies of pink flowers
with the summer in mind.

a joyous occasion.

don't act too much like yourself,
men might not like that.
don't approach him first,
you don't want to come off too strong.
wait patiently, but don't sit around,
have the power, but not too much of it,
don't be a pushover, but don't shout too loud.
don't text him first, don't pay for your own meal,
wait and wait some more, because if he likes you,
it's all on him.
we're powerless to make a change,
get labeled 'crazy' when we initiate things;
called a '*****' when we love to ****,
wearing no makeup makes us ugly
and wearing too much makes us *****.

what a beautiful way for society to reward us
for bearing their babies--if we want--
but wouldn't you? because women are
meant to be mothers, meant to stay at home,
meant to nourish and look pretty
while husbands are at work.

find a man who loves you,
but only if he admits it first...

“You don’t want to be with me. I’m damaged goods,” she says, a coy smile creeping across her face.  
“I don’t care,” he pulls her in with his hands around her waist. It’s the perfect height. He ignores the telltale signs of a liar and she tilts her chin up to meet his lips.
She hides her mischievous look behind a long sheet of black hair.
He barely notices the dragon’s heat rising from her chest.
She’s the green-eyed monster, getting poised to strike again.

I cannot cook. I do not clean.
I can talk politics and
I don't read women's magazines.
I know exactly what I want,
and I go for it, too;
I never think, I only do.
I know how to make you tick,
run my hand down your thigh;
I can blink thick with big green eyes,
lead you in and make you mine, but:
I'm not the girl you want to date,
I'm the one you wanna ****.

To think again as a child would be bliss.
The grey spring skies mean nothing but that
I have to play inside.

I may whine, but with the distraction
of character macaroni and my favorite show,
I'll survive.

I'll see with my big green eyes
puddles to jump in and
spring coming alive.

A wonderful life with no stress,
nothing but my head to rest
on my father's shoulder as I go to bed.

He puts one ******* display like the Mona Lisa
their bed is the Louvre

For me I say, a new one every night,
every state quarter, I want them all as mine

The collection of men as my single bed
gives free admission to those who choose
to fill the holes of my coin book

My mission: collect all fifty states.

He'll want to be the last but I fear
she has the Wisconsin in her grasp

Would it have been different if I'd changed myself for those around me?
Would I have been popular, well-liked, would I have managed
to replace my old friends with new?

Would I have wanted to?

I fill the void
with carnal desire,
in its animal form

I want nothing but
hot flesh, pulsing places,  
*** for pleasure's sake

No emotions, piercing stares,
the heat of the **** is what I want,
until something better comes along

A flash of quick wit
"I still love you" in a five-second clip
better be careful, I say.
I might believe you and
slide back on what I've gained.

and just like the Snapchat picture
you'll disappear again

I wonder if I'll ever feel again
a romantic touch, or if I'm stuck
with the heat of the ****
forever

I swim through seas of salty flesh looking for the best.
The waves of goosebumps crawling up the crest.
The crash that fills my chest.
I want to be carried to the shore
to make my rest.

If you were here
you'd be my anti-anxiety
instead of the leaf

my medication would be
a strawberry-blonde
head of hair
nuzzling my cheek

you gotta know
I won't sit forever,
waiting for your voice
to greet my ears
in the morning,
or for your lips
to grace my cheek

it began in the doorway
to a different time: where I itched
for someone whose brain worked
dissimilar to mine.

it ended on a suburban porch,
the gateway to the current day: where he
watched my taillights fade away
into an entirely separate place.

March twelfth of twenty-twelve,
when we decided to give it a try
and three years later,
it's long been left behind.

I gave it up when I said, "I don't care to be used"
and you responded with "Well-What do you think this is?"

Upon the words I realized the fire we'd started was smoldering
waiting to be doused.

The intimate way you'd look at me
was replaced with something else.

You'd become a ravenous tiger waiting to pounce.
You wanted my taste on your tongue. My blood on your teeth.

I gave one last sweet, innocent
kiss on your lips before finally walking out.

I changed  since the March
when I was eighteen looking for a thing

(Anything)

At the time
your problems became mine

My life's complacency
was overtaking me

This year around I

Decided I'd let the dusty ruins build up
in the palms of my hands far too long

and I blew them into the cold night air

It's the new found March
where I'll find out who I am

I can't decide who I was
when I let him take the worst of me,
and bring it out for everyone to see.
He had my soul, and threw it
into the icy waters of Lake Ontario.
It has never been found,
not on the shores of the South Carolina sea,
not in the open palms of the past charmed;
not in the pieces he left behind
for me to quarantine in
the darkest part of my mind.

I may never find that soul again.

today is the twenty-third birthday
of the first boy I fell for.
I can remember his seventeenth
like it was yesterday.
A sweet goodnight kiss
in a bitter winter's cold,
on the porch of my parent's house
after a high school formal dance.
In my gut then I knew
he would be the one to wreck me,
ruin my future's self-esteem,
but in my fifteen year's naivety
I ignored my brain
until he was gone and through.

I begun painting my nails
so that when I am hanging onto the real world
with nothing but my fingertips,
at least my hands will look pretty
before I fall