Those nights
When  you just lie there
And stare into space
And that feeling of your heart being ripped and tossed
Is on loop
With the same song playing over
And over
And over
Again
your eyes shut and the numbness ceases with your dreams
But you wake up
With your sheets stained of tear dried mascara
And that raw feeling
And your lips pale
Because the pain doesn’t stop when he’s gone

It was this electric burn
This insatiable satisfaction
When your hot lips were wrapped around mine
a snake on its prey
The feeling of you kissing me-
a neglected  crave
I could never get enough
And when I had you-
It felt like you were gone
Because my mind wandered off to when I would see you next
When I could get more of you
The feeling of your hands caressing my every curve and handle
The way you tousled with my hair
As you warmed my neck with your hot touch
I could savor this sentiment for eternity
But I must forget it
For I will veer insanity

Although we deny it
There is a caste system
It’s disgusting
We pride ourselves on societal acceptance
But when it comes to our PERSONAL lives,
The ugly stay among the ugly
And the attractive menace among their own
And it is perfectly normal
For godlike physique to kiss itself
But it cannot touch the curves and to spite what a bigger, or paler, or browner body may hold

There is a caste system
We divide society into classes based upon attractiveness
So that anyone who desires to pivot, cannot
And once you’re “there”
You are free
You are enlightened

But the chance given, the opportunity to thrive
Is held to the untouchables like a bone to a dog
But never to be chewed or gnawed
It’s just there
The menacing glory - hung like a dream on a wall

My roots are dug deep and have seeped every ounce of malevolent delight from a rich soil
They stubbornly intertwine with one another
But my branches remain high in the sky
Embellished by a dynamic color to gracefully appease my visitors
And my bark..
My bark is chipped at and carved into -
Scarred from the keys of momentary love
A love merely to be infatuation.
Broken.

To me,
Poetry is the serendipitous encounter
Of my dark utensil diluted with freedom
Drawn upon the ****** lined paper
Poetry is my wings of thought
Where my secrets submerge within the ink of a pen, from which every stroke is selectively drawn
It’s where I fear nothing
My bubble of elusive adoration
With poetry, I am safe.

What is Love really?
Is it really affection?
Or an obsession?
The line is blurred

When you love someone
So madly
That you lose yourself
Is that love?

Constantly thinking, analyzing,
Obsessing
Every detail of a relationship
Is that out of affection?

The pain in your chest
Thinking about them with someone else
Is that jealousy because of affection?
I am not convinced

Sometimes I wonder...
Just another mass
a chill run up my neck
emptiness bombards me
a ghost
They look right through me
no purpose.  

No one
No one to wish me goodnight,
no one to wake me up.
No one to throw myself on when all fails

But I stay, hoping one day
I fall so deeply
Not even a gunshot would hurt -
the gaze we hold in each other's eyes will numb all but love.

Satisfaction from a scent
the feeling of his hand on my hip -
as he brings it up my back,
Embrace
Making way up to my neck
grazing fingers against lips
Feel the warmth of his own pressed against mine