We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.

my feelings overflow
with nowhere to go
waves smashing against the breakwater
spraying sea foam
a cacophony no one can hear but me
because it's roaring
inside my head

Don't bother talking
Or writing
Someone's already said it all

Words are useless
And so are you

It all vanishes
Before your blood shot eyes

I want to dance with a stranger
I want to feel the melody of the music in the sway of my hips, his pace to match mine, faces close, body heat erupted into something larger; something intimate
I want someone to come up to me and make me feel like someone I never thought I could, beyond beautiful -- a Cinderella moment to take my slipper and lose it so he can come back and find me
I want a stolen dance, one that is never mentioned again, one that will be remembered for the rest of my life as a memory too sweet to be forgotten, too magical to be thrown away
I want him to have confidence, to come up to me and talk to me so that his mouth starts to form words of passion that follow the sheet music to my heart, words that make me question everything, words that draw me in so that I can melt into him

Sharp are your thorns,
Delightful are my moans,
In savoring your groans,
I close my eyes in contentment,
Feeling the ecstasy, the joy, I have been sent.

Even as you cause me pain,
I feel myself slowly drain,
yet, I do not feel my heart slain.
Rather, you are rightfully my existence's bane...

Just watching you, being with you, tasting you...all of these and more make me feel alive.