I am from unconditional happiness
frantically spinning in amusement park rides,
lemonade and ice cubes in wine glasses,
attractive titanium-blonde mystery solving in River Heights
and Morgan le Fay’s adventures.
I am from sweaty and sticky humidity
countless of mosquito bites criss crossing my spindly legs
bloody scabs and sucking up tears
a fierce loyalty to the tomboy mentality.
I am from an irrational love of horses
and an irrational fear of bikes
I am from belting the Beatles with my father
and crooning Troy and Gabriella’s duets with my friends
I am from awkwardly fitting clothes
awkwardly chosen outfits
an oblivious confidence,
ignorant to the importance of identity.
I am from first crushes and first mistakes
disastrous smokey eyes
and sex ed from Yahoo Answers
I am from learning and adapting to apathy
which I found to be much more acceptable.
I am suppressed passion and expressed passion
I am obnoxious laughter intermingled with uncontrollable tears
I am a disgruntled hipster living in fear of the word/world
I am a unique fearless monster
I am pretending to hate and attempting to love
I am trying to prove my worth
I am a great wave of emotions, a flurry of ideas and intense thoughts
I am a tinted car window
I am conditional happiness
I am lost and cannot be found
‘twas blind but now I see
I hate the word beautiful, but it’s all that I can think of right now, there’s the sounds you make when I grab you and the color of the bites on your neck but there’s nothing in between the rapid heartbeats in my chest and the next best thing sitting beside me, you could hide from me, put yourself in a little parcel and package your mind up for sale until you’ve sailed half way to Australia, you could have lied about your past and cast aside a shadow of a doubt but instead when I settled down beside you, your unexplainably soft lips touched the tips of my fingers and lingered on my hips and dipped beneath me whispering beautiful.
I hate the world beautiful, its cliché. Thesaurus’ are made for a reason, I’m caught up in the changing of the seasons and it would be treason to say there is a more fitting word that I’ve heard about you but… I’d really rather not admit to thinking your be-
When the snow softly falls on the lit trees in the moonlight, or the message lights up the screen on your phone and the butterflies in your stomach start to scream. There really isn’t another word for your eyes blood shot and captured by passion, I only have some idea of the way you taste but I’d hasten a guess that it’s sweeter than sugar. That! Was cliché, but hey… please say you’ll forgive me for being so damn forward.
The smoke in this room makes my eyes squint, if you could take a hint instead of taking a hit we’d be a lot closer than we are. Thanks to Mary Jane, and if it’s all the same to you I’d like to say that you are handsome, attractive, be-
I dislike the word beautiful because it’s trivial, of course I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think you were hot. Because God damn do I? Not a volcano, you’re molten lava, after the fires of Pompeii. You’ve single handily wrecked me, crashing into your shore I’m sure you still stretch out your arms to heal the burns left by your fellow man. I can’t stand when I’m around you, my knees quiver and I shiver from head to toe. I must really think you’re beautiful
And I am not about to deny that for every word I’d rather use the word you like best is the most appropriate. And it’s a scientific fact though it’s not backed up by experiments but experience; I’ve found a new way to exercise my right to use something redundant. Here’s my poetic licence, you can check the date of its expiry, I’ve hardly gotten to know you but I know I want to hold you while it’s snowing outside and hide with you from our not quite forgotten fears. So here I am, standing quietly. Stripped of my superfluous splendor and you still look at me in awe, everything is still in this darkness and this snow, I’m not trying to be an actress for you, this isn’t a show I’m just here so you know that it’s true. Your tongue traces your lips and you murmur.
If only my heart beat in syncopation with my mind.
I wish to make the words collide, but separation is all I can find.
Still I force my hand to tell a tale a soul would plead to hear.
I pray to some cigarette and wine stained God that tomorrow will draw me near.
Yes, tomorrow I would fly high and caress the sky with such a tender touch.
But tonight I am buried, beneath emotion uncontrolled and contorted.
Tonight I cannot so much as separate a single strand of hair from my eyes without the flood of passion.
Pass the salt, pour it onto my self-inflicted wound we so often refer to as love.
But my love has been bruised burnt and destroyed.
I have cursed, killed and polluted my own mind with thoughts of sickness, and now I crave it.
Had I only believed the goodness in myself?
Not let the demons creep up and kill all hope of a new beginning.
Had I so simply as smiled and thanked the lady when she spoke, the gentle kisses of her soft words had pulled my mind from where it had been.
too where I am now.
There are no words. No motions, no belief.
I am Godless and covered in the spit of my immortal demons.
Would it be better if I simply let them win…
their knives are as sharp and their whip is warm.
Their sick pretend grace causes my hands to reach for them. But they’re not there.
Not here, I am without my demons, my lover, my God, my destroyer.
I am alone.
If there ever was a day
where I could find the words to say
how you make me feel,
and prove each passion real,
that would be the day
to believe in what you pray
because it would be the day,
of the impossible.
If there ever came a time
where loving you was a crime,
and I couldn’t see your face
or hold you tight in the right place,
my next breath would never come,
because without you I’m not whole, I’m some;
If there ever came a moment, that we could hold forever,
a guarantee that no matter what, we’d be together,
you wouldn’t dare look away.
Because if that day was today,
I’d take advantage in every way.
Because it would be the day,
Of the impossible.
There's ever enough
Yet, I've managed to waste so much
I think of how much I could have accomplished
in the recent time that I've taken off
How much money I could have saved
rather than indulging on what I thought I needed
How many new people I could have met
Despite the fact that I barely talk to the people that I'm closest to
Oh, but it all can change
When someone gives you a deadline
Then, you're on their time
There's nothing I hate more
than being on a deadline.
It makes me want to step on the gas
and make the tachometer red line
I like to do things at my own pace,
Run my own race
But when I'm on you're time,
That can't be the case
When I'm on your time
My opinion isn't worth a dime
I have to meet your standards
and do it within the time you tell me?
You don't hold rank over me
I'm going to be what I want to be
But it's a shame that you cant see
The passion deep inside of me
I know that my time could be up at any moment.
And that Time waits for no one.
But give me a chance to sit down and have a drink.
Maybe I'll open up and let you in on what I think.
In the end this is just a rant
It's not like I wouldn't say this aloud if I could.
But I can't.
If you seek to Kindle passion,
but your mate is always cold,
You should buy a Hoodie Footie
from Pajama- gram I'm told..
The Hoodie keeps her ears warm
While the feeties warm her toes.
Toss in some wine and music
as her mood for passion grows.
Then you pull down on the zipper
that covers groin to chin
the girl is now on fire
and the romance can begin.
Except there was a problem
that derailed my new found luck.
My seduction didn't figure
on the zipper getting stuck.
Now she's horny and unsatisfied
and feeling like she's fried
and I'm here sleeping on the couch
( at least I'm not outside)
I wanted to sit down and write about something profound but when I went to create keys were all I found,
so I started to dance, between the positions on the board, and suddenly my head could take it no more,
and the words flowed through me, the way the had before, and I was over come with more elation than the Heavens could conjure
The meaning of my mind,
using just words seemed refined,
so I dug a little deeper,
to see what I could find
As I picked and pulled at my heart's memories,
reading old writings of things that once inspired me
realizing I am writing as a new person entirely
trying to be,
for the better of We
as We become a trinity
I realized that the words that once sparked a fiery passion from deep inside,
no longer gave me that rush of a high,
left me completely unsatisfied
as the woman I am saw the girl I was,
and who she almost let you help her become
A poison has filled my veins
Once ingested, reality fell ill
My conscious thought—remains
as my body folds forward against my will
A teardrop runs down my cheek
dissipates, broken, no longer based
I mourn for a matter, ‘till this day oblique
my heart, trapped, but willingly incased
I am held together by a single chain
a link binding me to a cold metal fate
The past burns with a deadly bane
from a passion, now of the late
Constant fear trills through my flesh
Never ready or prepared
For another, so fully mesh
Firmly against my chest, evenly cared
My innermost feelings reflect off her eyes
mirroring every ounce I am willing to give away
A millstone is lifted, as my heart is gracefully taken
followed by my feet, my lady, if I may?
I stride my left-foot forward to start the Waltz
Our feet: forward, turn, together, and no plan to cease
If I step on your foot, this man is at fault
For you are my beauty and I, your beast
What is simple in the midst of the night,
Is never easy by sunrise.
Doesn’t that question your heart to know;
Whether the sun is capable of bleaching you clear of all passion?
This was supposed to be a poem;
But I don’t feel so good anymore.
This was supposed to be a “Dear Diary” entry;
But there is nothing dear about this entry
This was supposed to be a rationale about love;
But there is nothing rational about love.
This was supposed to be a motivational speech;
But the audience of my surroundings portray an ambiance of apathy.
This was supposed to be a farewell letter;
But my blood-pumping organ cannot orchestrate a declaration of adieu.
This was supposed to be a livid rant;
But I cannot pinpoint the suitable syllables that have the strength to impale you such as a bullet.
This was supposed to be a love letter;
But I am not capable of fabricating words to exhilarate your mortalness.
This was supposed to be a poem;
But instead, it is a 3:48am compilation of my most vulnerable thoughts.
And I question;
At what age did I lose my compassion?
When did my smile become so brittle?
When did I become so bitter…?
It’s my curiosity again
She is catching up to me
And my mind has run away again
Because it’s snagged,caught up on you.
In a way you only some times think of
And every so often ask about.
I’m so torn about saying it
Because I am scared you don’t share this same curiosity I run from.
I’m beginning to understand what He meant by “perfect”.
You see we already are and have been by being just friends
But I want to know the answer to what my mind has thought of
It is this question…
Would you kiss me?
Knowing that this “perfection” could stay the same.
Because if so
What would it feel like?
Would it thrill me?
How would you kiss me?
Would you make it soft and slow
Like in those movies
Or would you kiss me
Like the world is about to fall;
Thoughtless and with all the passion in this world…
Or do you not want to know
Because maybe you wanted things to change
So that kiss would have to come with a title.
Or just maybe we are both lucky and want things to stay the same.
But I had to ask…
Would you kiss me anyway?
I couldn't let this moment pass and never know
If you would or wouldn't
And if so
What it would be like to know your lips a little better.
With my hand on the pack of your neck
To say I know you and mean it in a way
That is more than I would say
So I’m sorry
My curiosity has me out here hoping you will say yes
Or say nothing at all and kiss me anyway.
It’s just a question
I’m so afraid it is too much to ask
Or that these painful butterflies in my stomach that I wrestle with
Will get in my way
Because we aren't changing
We are meant to stay the same
But I hope you will kiss me anyway.