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.

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 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

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.

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

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

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

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

Fluid screams flowing
streams of limpid tears spurting
molten ire melting

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.

dark clouds are the only thing i see
when i look up to the sky tonight,
"where's the moon?" i blurted
cold breeze answered me.

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

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.

I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)

what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists