pull you close
grab my waist
rest my hands
on your face
kiss you slow
close embrace
lift me up
wearing lace
hands will drift
press and trace
melting with
the sweet taste
love on lips
time to waste
you and i
in this place

s.s

flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth

n.

your little lips
forming an elipsis

o.

put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
no.

you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops

and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
"i am mine"

She loved art
And she breathed
And ate
And slept art
And she radiated art
And art was her life

And we
All loved her
One hundred percent
And every
Girl
Was her
Best friend

And the priest
Doing the funeral
Hadn't met her.
But her parents
Paid him like he had.

And they told the priest
"She loved art
And she breathed
And ate
And slept art.
And she radiated art.
And art was her life."

And so that was what he
Told the
Congregation.


But when
A quiet person like her
Dies
No one ever finds out
That she
Hated art
But
In fact
She loved Forensic Science.

When she cries, I will go to any length for her.
When she smiles, I do not believe in sadness.
When she thinks, I agree.
When she walks, I follow.

She doesn't know it yet, but I'm meant for her.
I don't think her girlfriend would thank me.
But she doesn't know what friends we were.
If only she knew, then she would see.

Have you heard of the story of the Stomach and the Limbs? Where the limbs refused to work because "why should we feed something that doesn't work aside from eating?" And then the stomach wasted away with the limbs until they realised that the stomach gave them energy to function and decided to feed it.

That story had me thinking that the owner of the body had become depressed, hence them not moving or eating anymore and that one day someone helped them and they got better and began to function again.

I go to write the words on my pen,
but the ink runs dry.

Looking into the sea of my thoughts,
I begin to drown.

I reach and I grasp,
nothing.
I scream and I shout,
only silence.
I fill with doubt,
and doubt screams back at me....

"It's not true.
You can't make it.
If you ruin it,
then at least it was by your own choice.
Your fears,
are just the reality you face every day.
Give yourself back to me,
and become again who you used to be."

For a moment I sink further,
further into the abyss,
wanting to give myself away,
to let myself drown.

Further and further I go.
With each passing moment,
the doubt grows,
and I dwindle.

No longer knowing who I am,
I succumb at last to the water.
The dark chill of my thoughts,
the empty hollowness of who I become, and
the fears of my past begin to sink in.

All at once,
I am reminded of my past faults.
I am reminded of my past fears.
I am reminded of my past anxieties.
I am reminded of the loss of all that I hold dear.

I rise from the water at last, and
I breathe again.

I realize that,
no matter how much I grow up,
no matter how much I try,
no matter how many tears I cry,
I will always be scared.

I will always be scared,
of those who said they cared,
and hurt me the most.