the salty beads of sweat,

that sweet smell of fading lust,

and the only thing keeping me from holding on forever.

that sultry look in your eye when i returned you to dust

and the feel of your lips on the nape of my neck;

because you were the one that kept me together.

those are the things i hold close to my chest.

they are pieces of loves that i hadnt really felt,

of roads i had never dreamt of being taken,


and there are no more words left

only pulsing tokens…

When i think of your eyes

and how they sparkle with kindness,

i am reminded, gently,

that we are made

from star stuff.

no body thinks about us.

     they only care about what we puncture;

            the tasty meat, sweet fruit, and  the good intentions.

                      they never think of the sticky residue

                                                         left behind  

                                       and how we

                                                 will never be

                                           truly clean

                            again.

my eyes opened slowly

to see you sitting at the edge of the bed

the light hitting your back and creating ***** shadows

where your skin begged to be touched softly

gripped ardently, and kissed eagerly.

but i watched, silently as you moved

because i was so caught in the very

distant and beautiful thought of you.

bubbling underneath a smiling surface;

burning through my dimpled cheeks.

a feeling of frustration

unbreakable and deafening

making me see colors horridly beautiful

stealing the sleep from my eyes

and the quiet from my busy brain.

i hate this feeling,

this stagnant desperation.

its like a boulder breaking my spirit;

a red fashioned murderer of my inspiration.

In my wildest fantasies

you are moving inside of me

with pieces and portions of my liquid being

dying your appendages; expressing my completion.

your touch, unforgettable, and not at all withholding,

driving us forward and bringing us closer

to another beginning crashing into a fitting end

where i finally stop singing your praises

and we are just friends again.

i want you to leave tender marks on my cinnamon skin

i need to be sore; to be reminded of where you've been.

id like bite marks and scratches;

a little pain mixed with pleasure and as the plan unhatches

we’ll fall further down the hole to something perfectly devastating

a twisted Disney world that is more than wonderful and tainting

because your hands will make me give you all of me

and whomever walks by our door will know

that we were there, connecting through marrow,

creating magical violet colored memories.

i saw you there,

dipped in shadow and filled with remorse,

whispering to me about twilight

and how freedom tasted sweet,

like tear sized stars ripped out of the palest moon.

your charmed brown eyes watering

as you looked away,

ashamed,

that all you wanted

was the heated balance

that she surrendered

on a silver platter.

the buttons on her sweater have never been more ripped

and the room carried on with that familiar shame, tear-filled scent.

those were the days of her life;

coming home from school, and finding him waiting

the rush and the fear,

anxiousness and now its fading

the only moments that allowed her to once feel love

now dashed into ramparts once dreamed of.

if the walls could speak then they would scream

‘shes just a **** with torn clothing and a broken spirit!’

even when it hurt,

even when he told her exactly what to feel.

his kisses tasted like futures lost and forgotten.

he was sweet but underneath his eyelids trouble lied;

this we had in common.

though, for those brief moments that he held me, in his arms, we were at ease;

we understood.

i will always remember his strong hands dressed in ardent whispers,

expressing more than painted need. yes, they settled arguments

and feigned complaints with their candy covered callouses

and sent shivers to the center of undiscovered parts of my being.

he was warm, burning, because i surrendered my heat.

he took it, palmed it, and expelled my inner demons with a flick of his wrist

and aching fingers.

soft were the minutes that ticked by

only noticeable by the subtle change of light

glistening off of your skin.

and the seconds that inched forward while

my hands devoured all of you in sight.

you sighed softly, at first, when my lips met your

shoulders, became acquainted with your neck, and my arms

****** the desire out of your pores.

while your mouth took mine; like a honey dipped burglar

stealing doubt from my lungs, i couldnt help but taste and think,

“soft.”

You are my enemy

twisting and turning

In the dark blue parts of me.

making me say things, most

sacred, with time slipping

away and causing dread

in its lapsing place.

you grow through me;

more amazing with every

decisive inch. So sweet are

your dewy petals, blooming as

if tomorrow’s skies are

undoubtedly bright.

as if I had any other choice

when I first saw his storming soul

burn through his eyes.

he suffers from bouts of lust
something that can only be cured by real love.
his loneliness expands past his hands
to touch no one but me.
he always says he's happy
but his goosebumps tell a different story
in a language i studied fully, dot by sensuous dot.
there is more to him, to us, than meets the eye
its powerful and deeply satisfying.
but,  i have to let him live his sullied peach toned lie.

he aches to rove about.
his soul is restless, yet he plays content.
he yearns for so much more,
though he attempts to stay caged.
the lonely lion paws desperately, trying
to make an honest connection,
taking leaps to the edges of unknown worlds.
just to feel again.
hoping to fall, fly, crawl or die
and always counting on an
earnest resurrection.

There is something about the way we move,

as if we've been here before,

as if nothing is the matter,

as if there could be more.

but then,

there is the truth; that we are broken and harmful,

willing to burst for a single armful

of what should be bliss

if we would, for a second, forget all of this.

that i love
the wrong
all of the time

it surges through her.

the ability to bring you to your knees

with a single, longing look,

with a deep, lingering kiss,

and with an unbreakable, loving spirit.

rendering you helpless in her palms;

desperate to understand her qualms

and wishing

you were in her bed,

tossing and turning, but waking

next to someone that would cherish your everything.

your power.

Your sweet, moonlit eyes, bold hands, and a careful heart;

capturing any light

that she had shone on anyone else.

My chest tightened up, as if my muscles were

Fighting me; fighting the loss of you.

It seemed like a dream. Drowning me.

Something filling my lungs; fear, hope,

Regret.

Then the tears came; Slowly,

Quietly, softly.

Neverending. Insomnia inducing.

Making me think of crazy things

Like emotions I want to be unafraid to feel,

things I want to do, and those words I want

So desperately to say;

I love you.

your bottom lip between your teeth, ever so sweetly,

as if you were holding in a secret.

and i remember thinking that i wanted to release it.

that i wanted to lean in slow and hear your breath hitch

while my hands found their places, one amongst your chest and

the other resting softly on your cheek. both feeling warmth

but only one feeling your trusting heart beat.

and i wanted our eyes to lock before our mouths parted slightly,

my lips trembling and slick yours nervous and freshly licked,

to connect our excitedly entwining tongues as they sang and swayed.

i remember thinking that you would make me giggle and that maybe,

in that moment, i could take your breath away.

there are nights when i drift to sleep

dreaming of things that will never be.

my imagination is colorful; open inside of me.

i see twisted trees and deepening plots;

peaceful seas and dancing pots.

i see us

She looked down at the floor while

salty tears stung her eyes.

they felt like hot betrayal against her cool demeanor and apart of her

fell away.

He stood there awestruck that she had let him see all

that she had held back.

that it flowed out of her completely; melted her.

he reached out to hold her; to carry a piece of her pain,

to wipe the sweet droplets from her soft cheek.

but like the wind, she wished to be untethered, to be free

and before he could touch her punished skin,

she was gone.

We are subject matter.
constantly on the tips
of each others tongues.