It might be said:

Seventeen,
The stalemate between her maturity and
Self-convicted foolishness.
Her insides longed for some time
And her resistance was rather limited;
Exposed to the warmth she was transferred,
When it was seldom a
Tendency for her to let go
When they did not wait.

I pretended I was happy
I nearly believed myself

As long as you live, keep learning how to live.

It keeps dripping onto me.
No matter where I move.
I seek shelter and yet,
it's still there.
It's not fair.

it's just that
people, they disappoint me
you know
i am always longing for an arm that's never there


trying to touch the cracks
i will bleed i know
and i am searching for homes
where I am not bounded to lie my head


i don't want to belong anywhere
and i also want to be in everybody's heart
but i don't want to feel their cracks
i just want to heal mine


it sounds selfish
but why would it matter?
people i cared for
they never cared for me anyways


people always disappoint me
i don't want to lie in their arms
and make them feel safe
because they are  broken

and their sharp edge scars me
always, always
they hurt me
they know that they are hurting me


but they hurt me anyways
love is too broken
too broken, too broken

Deep beneath the rage
calming all the flurry
Peacemakers ply their trade.

In the morning before work
I sit on the floor and pretend
that it’s dirt. I look out the window
and pretend that it’s church.
That gods of the earth and sky
and space all did their research
in collaboration to be sure
that today is worth it.

I can hear the moon is crying and the stars, they all are sobbing rain tonight; I can hear the sun is sighing in Cali with the clouds and was hugged by the sky with lightning getting angry every minute.

Why was I too blind?
Why was I too kind for someone that relies on me with nothing to be given? Never realized.
Why was I singing to the moon like a lullaby I try to sleep the thoughts of me loving you endlessly, ever so it was a beautiful flight.

...i flicker my petals, now damp and tight, my coffee is done...the timing is right.

i think of you down between my thighs, i dream of your moist, precious eyes.

you are so young and so daring yet, i stroke your mound like a private pet.

a woman, a girl, a fantasy....i may not have you, but i sure can dream.

--by Alexandra Eames

and we
won't just
  survive
    but we'll
      thrive till
        we're five
           and make
              peace with
                 our hearts
                     till we're
                         feeling
                              alive
                                   and my
                                        puppy-
                                               eyed
                                                     lover
                                                            will talk
                                                                   to the
                                                                          sky and
                                                                               we'll drift
                                                                                      through the
                                                                                              night till
                                                                                                      we're free

May you have a fruitful full moon in which your good intentions become a manifestation of your actions.

How can I tell you
Of this beauty
For which
There are no words?

My heart trembles
When my blue eyes
Touch her
And I am stricken dumb

When the moon's gonna be full,
And the tides are gonna be high,
When the breeze is gonna be chilly,
And the food's gonna be spicy,
Our little date would be perfect;
When the lights are gonna be dim,
And the music is gonna be soft,
When the wine's gonna go sober,
And you're gonna go tipsy,
Our little date would be perfect;
When your mouth's gonna be searching,
but your eyes are gonna speak, that, "It was perfect", then and only then,
Our little date would be perfect.

She was taught to look up at the sky...
To find love in the stars, moons and the galaxies that danced an unknown song...

But...

She taught her heart to look into her own self...
And then did she found her love...
In the universe of her cells...that had been playing  a familiar tune since she had been born to live!

I’m addicted to the feel of cold metal sliding across bare flesh
Addicted to the instant
when nothing marks smooth skin
immediately before
red rivers rapidly rise
painting a once white canvas
with a flood of emotion,
tears on my cheeks,
sobs caught in my throat,
numbness replaced by pain & sadness.
Addicted to the imperfection
of red welts and dotted scabs that follow,
fingers drawn like magnets
to the texture of healing skin,
tracing over and over and over now fading ridges
Amazed that I am strong enough
to heal myself over and over and over.
Convincing myself that I am strong enough.
I find strength in my weakness.

I fell in love with candlelight-
in my darkness, she shone so bright.
She danced the breeze, lit up the night,
her glow consumed my very sight.

But wax and wick both burn away,
and candlelight just cannot stay.
As sure as night turns into day,
that fickle flame will go astray.

But for a moment, through the storm,
she lit my world, she kept me warm,
then flickered out, as is the norm
for candlelight, its fleeting form.

I fell in love with candlelight,
for but a moment, all was right.
Her glow, her dance, consumed my sight,
and faded out at end of night.

Thinking about getting a tattoo
But, I take pause...
Looking in the mirror
I see my body’s already covered
Marked in invisible ink
Every inch of my bare skin
Painted with the joy and pain of living
From my heart to my hips
Color faded here, but poppin’ over there
Memories designed by your hands
Others etched on my own
A collection that makes me smile
Among a few pieces I regret
So, about getting a tattoo...
I guess I’m not ready
Because I can’t think of a tattoo
Meaningful enough, yet
To write over any of the life I’ve lived

People were shuffling into the halls in tears
I turned to her and said
'I think I have apathy issues'
She told me she loved me
Squeezed my shoulder
I didnt say anymore

It started of as a joke
Like a game gone wrong
But when i heard her cry
I knew there was somthing
Terribly wrong

Why does it always feel like
no one's listening
when I talk?

Soft edges and
bright colors
full of life.
Your features
were graced
by the
moonlight.
A perfect structure,
that’s one of a kind
and not many get to
see in their
lifetime.
What a lucky gal,
aren’t I?
- masterpiece.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do?

It wasn’t letting you go.

That was difficult though, to swallow my pride and wear a smile to hide the fact I’m not okay.

Oh no, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do? Was finally admit to myself the truth.

It was admitting that you were never mine to begin with.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

It's taken me years
Of writing and reading,
Living,
Giving and receiving,
Love
To realise;
Love is simple
It's humans
That are complicated

If I see it
then it is

If I hear it
then it is

If I taste it
then it is

If I read it
then it's
a different
story