Touch you with my touch
now you feel the rush
of my hand like a paint brush
slowly tracing your curves
but I do not deserve
such a woman like yourself
so deserving of respect
but when my friends would talk about that chick
and want to bone her
bone would carry me back
to the skeletons in my closet
only concerned about getting in between that girl’s hips
when they ***** her
I wanted to be that girl’s hips
the bones inside of her
because without me she couldn't move alone
and without her heartbeat
I'd just be bones.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 1:32 PM UTC
As your precious finger slowly traces the shape of my lips, chills shoot through my spine faster than a nervous cop.
Your touch is only comparable to perfection, each second felt is another second I fall harder.
Your smile is something I have never seen before; and how is it the smile you hate is the exact thing I cherish?
Your presence carries the ability to take me off the ledge and make me feel euphoria; a word not well known, but perfectly appropriate.
How is it you come into my life and save the day, but at the same time mess it up?
Just as I feel I am ready to spread my wings and enter the next chapter of my life, you remind me what it feels like to love.
When I look at you, I can see the emotion carried in your eyes. You put on makeup to cover your unwanted scars, but its those scars that make you who you are, the girl I fell harder than the deployment of an airbag for.
When you catch me staring and you ask, "what" while you shake your head, smile, crinkle your nose, and push me.
I always respond with the standard, "oh nothing" as I smile and carry on. You must wonder why I always stare and the truth is, I can't help it.
The voice you make while you try to be nice to be never ceases to entertain me. You constantly try to downplay your words by changing your tone of voice, yet I see through you as though your a window covered in gold.
When you set your mind to something, I am fascinated watching you accomplish your goal. Your ability to conquer what you set your mind to is inspiring, yet you let the doubt of others get in the way.
I'm nervous this whole thing is moving faster than a train because I want to embrace every moment, yet the speed makes me feel alive.
Don't go anywhere, or you might miss the ride.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
I wondered if I was too soft, too pliable, to bendable, to breakable
I wondered if my sensitiveness would be better served on a censorship list
if it would be better to weather my own emotions until they eroded
a road not known to be so gentle
because when you're always spoken to like a mistake
it starts to be the only thing you can taste and you end up feeling less like great and more like pain
my mother swears that I am the air that she breathes
so when they diagnosed her, I hope the doctors didn't blame it on her environment
and when my friends would talk about that chick and wanna bone her
bone would carry me back to the skeletons in my closet
while they were only concerned about getting in between that girls hips, when they ***** her
I wanted to be that girls hips, the bones inside of her
because without me she couldn't move alone
and without her heartbeat
I'd just be bones
I can't tell you how many times my friend Maddy was battered up on homeless plate
but we still dug out love
she was rocked quite often, but was one hell of a mountain climber
she payed a hefty price to wear his fists, and they were the most expensive eye makeup I've ever seen
when my friends would brag about how many lamp shades they would look under in their room, how many metaphorical lamps laid on the nightstand surrounding their bed
my mother always said if I let them shine in my mind, I wouldn't need not even one night stands
I hold them high
spell a woman
a woman is a
man
on
wo
and you can still be fly if you land on one
disrespect them, and we're kicking dirt on the land from which we all grow
while most guys are treating the inside like a candy store, I found that all the getting inside in the world don't matter until you feel like you've found your golden rapper
while most guys are wishing that girl is blind enough to see their ulterior motives
they've forgotten most women have super powers
all they see are invisible men, and I wanted to make her feel my words like brail to the unseen
I wanted to bring life to those frozen in time words once told to her
because those 'I love yous' and 'I miss yous' from her exes were paralyzed from the neck down
they were just trying to get ahead, and once alive, need oxygen to live
and sooner or later she was only living to breathe life into those words, and I wanted to breathe life back into her
my mother taught me things
she said, just because someone before you
spent time in her boiler room
doesn't mean they turned
the heat on
she said, no matter who smashed you make sure you love that girl to pieces
a girl's past is like cremated ash, it's been lived already
my mother said, kisses are like stitches, they heal all wounds as long as they don't remain hidden in a bottom right corner of special occasion birthday cards
because every kiss does not begin with k, they begin with lips
and so does every life
It's time for us guys to start
respecting where
we came
from.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
*"This pasta is amazing!"
"Those earrings are gorgeous."
"That cake is beautiful."
"That dress is so pretty."*
What do we do when we run out of words?
Why is it we have given words meant for so much, to objects that mean so little?
The day comes you hold your baby girl in your arms for the first time.
You stare into her eyes and can't help but smile because you just remembered what it feels like to fall in love.
You feel yourself begin to glow.
So when you're asked to describe her,
is she more amazing than dinner?
more gorgeous than those silver earrings?
more beautiful than that chocolate cake?
prettier than that dress?
It's about time we start saving our words for the appropriate cause.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC
*"Dear Trevor,
After careful review, we cannot offer you admittance to our University."*
As my brain processes each word typed onto this piece of paper, my spirits hit the ground faster than a rocket launched into Israel.
Funny isn't it?
I spend 17 years of my life being told by my parents I am the smartest, cutest, most handsome boy in all of God's green earth.
Here I am, starting to believe them.
I've spent the past two days driving myself to the edge, "What if I spent one more hour studying, one more day practicing, one more month preparing?"
These "what ifs" have the power to drive someone far away from their true self.
I soon found myself with two options.
Option number one: I can drive myself crazy thinking about every opportunity missed.
Option number two: I can prove them wrong.
So I decided to give them their own denial letter:
*"Dear fortunate fool,
After careful thought, I am writing today to thank you. Due to your denial, I will now be working twice as hard to prove you wrong. I will treat everyday as though someone was working twice as hard to take it away from me. I look forward to the day I am asked, 'What has driven you to become the most successful man in the world.' And I will respond, 'I was told I was not good enough, and that just would not do.'
Sincerely yours,
A fortunate denial"*
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC
"Come on have another drink, don't be a *****
8,000 miles away, yet a concept so familiar.
"Don't be a ***** finish your drink!"
"I'm good man, I think I am going to head home."
"If you don't finish your drink, I am going to force this glass down your throat."
Blink
As the door to the bathroom locked behind me, the room began to spin.
Blink
My head slowly came in contact with the toilet, and regret exited my mouth.
Blink
"Are you okay man?"
Sure, now they care.
Blink
My face hit the cold cement of my driveway after being thrown out of a car I had no recollection entering.
Blink
My head hit my pillow and I entered the deep chambers of my sleep
Blink
My eyes opened, regret was everywhere.
Blink
Never again.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
It was an average Sunday morning consisting of cartoons, breakfast on the stove, and hot chocolate.
I yelled into the next room, "Dad is breakfast almost ready?"
After no response I yelled again, yet still nothing. I decided to get off the couch, and after that nothing would ever be the same.
As I entered the room my dad stood as though he was the prisoner of Medusa.
He began to shake and his head proceeded to slowly approach the non forgiving marble counter.
I ran to the kitchen and caught him in my arms just before his precious head impacted the counter.
There I sat, a twelve year old boy holding his father in his lap while his father's mouth began to foam.
My father's head sat so perfectly within my lap and I watched my father's soul began to lose touch with reality.
I screeched for help, but no one answered.
How can a boy still trying to master his multiplication table be asked to hold his father in his arms as his breath slowly ceased to exist.
I pushed my ear into his mouth to see if any breath of life was left, I heard nothing.
January 14th, 2009.
11:05am.
Happiness came knocking, no one was home.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 10:26 PM UTC
What happens when schooling begins to get in the way of my education?
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
I asked,
"What is it like to wake up every morning and know you are dying?"
She responded,
"What is it like to wake up every morning and pretend you are not?"
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:09 PM UTC
When asked, "How do I make her notice me?" The answer was simple.
You have one minute.
10 seconds to make eye contact
10 seconds to make her laugh
10 seconds to make her wonder
10 seconds to make her feel you're not like the others
10 seconds to exchange a smile
10 seconds of outrageous courage
The rest is up to you.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC