the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that all you want is to be with her every second
but the universe has other plans for you
so those sweet midnight texts have to be enough sometimes
the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that loving her is exhilarating but terrifying
your whole life, heart, soul belongs to her
and forever won’t be long enough
the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that her smile is your favorite thing in the world
she doesn’t see the beauty that you do
but her face is the only one you ever want to see
the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that she consumes you
there is no measure of time that will be enough with her
your heart aches whenever you are apart
the problem with falling in love with the girl
is that she is your first and last thought of every day
she is always there by your side when you imagine your future
and your wedding day can’t come soon enough.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 7:51 PM UTC
I. i am in love with the hurricane of you
i fall asleep to the thought of your smile
and wake thinking of your eyes
i am rendered
speechless
by your beauty
my senses are full of you
and I could so easily be
consumed
by you.
II. i could spend all of my forevers
holding you tight
and tracing endless love letters
along the curve of your spine
i know the lines of
your face
like the back of my hand
the moon and stars are
nothing
compared to
you.
III. knowing you is a privilege
i'm not sure how i earned
but i feel so
lucky
to hold
you
to kiss
you
and to love
you.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
he is sharp angles
bony elbows
knobby knees
and ribs protruding fiercely from
worn-thin
shirts.
honey blonde locks
plastered against his skull
and sweat
beads on a
translucent
brow.
he braces for the
pain
nails growing
teeth sharpening
body contorting
flesh ripping away from bones.
thick ropey scars criss-cross
over his back
and you could swear
those were
bite marks
along his spine.
he will shake and shudder
teeth clenched
eyes shut tight
against the horrors
but no matter what you ask
he will not answer.
a worn sweater hangs loose
around narrow shoulders
and dark
circles stand out
starkly
against porcelain cheeks.
when the full moon comes
in all it’s horrific glory
he will touch
your cheek
and send you away
with a sigh.
wine-red blood seeps
from claw marks
on a slender limb
and he kisses your worries
away
even as he weeps.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
when you next see me
look for the
flowers
nestled in my hair
silk petals tangling with
enthusiastic
flaxen curls
and you will
know
that i have
forgiven you
i will trace
the moonbeams on the backs
of your hands
and if we kiss
(and we will)
i will keep my eyes
open wide
so i can
memorize your face
and tattoo
your love onto my
soul
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
she will cradle her head
in patchwork hands
and her
lips crack and out
spills words
explosively.
tears trace peculiar
tracks down
porcelain cheekbones
that jut out
much too harshly
under the dying stars.
cold moonbeams
dance over her hips
and
light upon
the desperation
in her eyes.
invisible bruises are painted
onto her
soul
and when she
smiles
you can almost see them.
a cigarette pressed to
dry cracking lips
will be all she wants
when she
is slowly
slipping.
she will never
breathe a word of
the betrayal
she felt
when her own body
failed.
and when her skin is
paper-white
you will press
trembling kisses to the
backs of her hands
and cry.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC
she thrusts out her hand
reaches inside of me
and writes
an epic poem
on my ribs
scratching our love stories
into the bone
fingernails tearing
cracking
scraping
away until the marrow
can be seen
where she will
inscribe
our romance
in inks of red and blue
she tears apart my
bones
holds my heart in both
her hands
digs in green-painted
nails
until the blood runs freely
and then
and only then will
she
be satisfied
with her handiwork.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
he is smirking lips
wine-scented breath
warm kisses stolen in an alley
inky curls
painter's hands clutching a
flask
-
he is the Dionysus
of the barricade
paint-stained fingertips
charcoal
smeared on the face of his
lover
-
he is rain on a summer's
day
the iron tang of
blood
absinthe puddled in a corner
and hope.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
their love is the velvet darkness
all soft whispers, hot kisses
the clash of teeth on teeth
reminiscent
of blade on blade.
-
a tangle of curls brown and blonde
mix together
and the delicious sound of
breathy sighs fill the air that is
thick with love/lust.
-
it is the quiet afterward that always
catches them by
surprise
so they lie, tangled in each others hearts
and together, they won't sleep.
-
his love will cry in his arms
and they will sing softly
salt tears
trailing down the faces of boys
who will not live to see the dawn.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
she wears her jewelry proudly
purple, sometimes green,
maybe yellow
but it is always
beautiful.
she will tip back her head
and show you her
long neck and you
are overcome by the sight
of such
beauty
in one person.
sometimes she wears bracelets,
delicate
purple bands encircling
her dainty
wrists
and the colors are so beautiful.
she hardly ever wears rings
but for the purple one,
maybe an amethyst
that sits upon one of her fingers
and she will flinch
even wince if you try
to touch it.
but sometimes, maybe just once or twice,
you might even manage to
forget
that her necklace,
and those lovely bracelets
and that beautiful amethyst
which she wears so very proudly
is made up of
fingerprints.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 1:56 PM UTC