Eat. Purge.
Eat. Purge.
Purge. Purge.

I purged a baby from my abdomen.
Just don’t eat.
Do not eat.
Swallow all those struggles.
Let them eat YOU instead.

God knows you want that **** chocolate.
But you smother the craving and wrap it in your words.
Spit those words. Gunshots.
Bad girls do not deserve chocolate.

My time will come, right?
With great hope I write this, tho I don’t know if my heart will stop beating because lately it's been so faint or will it explode by how fast it is pounding now.
I do wrong
I can’t seem to stop.
But I know my time will come and I will be okay.
I used to believe that I would never be okay again
Became all the things I promised I wouldn’t.
Wrapped my bones in cold skin, damp eyes bitter with life.
Nothing really changed but everything did.
My time will come
And maybe some of these days I’ll go home.
I will be okay.
My time has to come.

Rain water soaks us
Runny mascara, but you still think I'm beautiful
Lips so soft
Lips so sweet
We're pressed up against each other
Bare chest to bare chest
You on top
Me on bottom
Hips locked in place with the other
Warm soft sweet lips slowly caressing my body, my lips and my neck you **** on
Soft gentle hands caress my ******* thoughtfully
Finally, her lips reach my thighs, I, trembling with lust and fear
I was scared and she knew it
Her hands and lips touched me
*So softly, so gently

Don't ever fall in love with a poet
because they will indeed admire and watch your every move
they will write about how the pen marks on the side of your palm when you write
don't ever because they will trace
every single freckle you have on your face and
write about the color of each and every one of them and
describe how they smile so brightly under the sunlight
they will want you to want to know every little thing about them
even if it's just what hand they write with and want you
to be wondering why they write with that specific hand when in
reality it doesn't even matter

the poet will watch the way you dig
your eyes onto that book and your small quick remarks onto the 26 letters all crumpled together and will know that everyday at 5:28 p.m. you smile

they will look deeply into your eyes
to see if they can at least take a little
peak of your soul and they will write
about you like if you were the only
thing they see good in this world

they will want to know what you think
about when you look at them and
see if you also count each and
every freckle and hope and write  
that you do but they will
love you endlessly and they will
show you that they love you and only you

but don't date a poet if you aren't
capable to watch them and
admire their imperfections
when they sleep late at night
beside you.

j.f

Will you love me when all that's left of me are my scars?
Will you love me when dark blinds my eyes?

Will you still love me when I become only a dry shell of a girl I used to be?
Tell me,
Will you love me
When my eyes start to leak a flowing river just when you are about to burst with flames?

Will you love me at night when I simply don't know how to love you back?
Would you love me if I told you that soon I will become your other half you will learn to hate so **** much?
Will you love me?
Because I think
I can't
Even
Love
Myself.