Gone yet here
with little proof
of existence, of the
warmth breathed out,
of the honeyed words
left beyond demand
Gone they are
but always
here

They call it the ****, the ******, the Cho-Cha,
the Cooch, the ****, the ***** Fly Trap, the
Yahoo, the Honey ***, the Pink Taco, the Woo-Woo,
the Foof, the Hairy Potter, the Flaming Lips,
the Sticky Bun, the Pecan Pattie, the Field of Dreams,
Too long women have hidden from it,
the big V, she who shall not be named,
Call it by what it is,
In whatever shape, form or color,
It's a ******, get over it.

Waves clash
in the distance,
And I feel it,
the Peaceful melancholy,
My skin dries, turns red
beneath the sun,
I squint, blink the
sand out of my eyes,
and watch the ocean
unfold into a serene
chaos, I realize I
wish to be it when
I die,
I wish to become
the sea

You scream,
I cry

You punch,
I cower

You leave,
I stay

Opposites attract
Right?
True love, they say
Beautiful, how the
Darkest of the things
Are made justifiable

Is it desperate to
hope someone
is looking at
you?

I touch the keyboard, my mind in scrambles,
Words become a knot of confusion
and I cannot express the very emotion in my chest

My heart beats in a frenzy,
Uncontrolled and clinging to
fleeting pride,
I wish upon a star,
to give me confidence,
to give me assuredness,
for I feel it has never been
felt before~ Truly, in a way
my pride is not corrupted
by narcissism.

Because deeply,
As my lungs soak in
air and my head spins
irrationally,
I feel how sanity
seeps out of me.

I am left with
a pit of empty
aspirations.