If I were to be given the option to **** you,
I would do it gently.
Lovingly.
I would hold your head in my lap
as I feel you become a heavy corpse.
I would lay flowers on your chest
as your breathing slows.
I would pray that you are both confused
and disgusted
by the sheer magnitude
of my forgiveness.

That it haunts you as you take your last breath.

That it haunts you in death.

In the end,
everything I write is about you.

if i show you
will you understand?

how i've outlined these arms
vein after vein
where sunlight runs
i see only
lines to trace

i got a barcode on my wrists

scan me for the price
of beauty

i am as expensive
as what people think of me.

do you know what it feels like
to attach your worth
to weighing scales
and waists that never
slim down?

is this why they call them
shoulder blades
to cut through
your skin
to be called
"pretty"

thigh gaps that map
the distance between your legs
to make you
matter so much
you can't stand on your own
feet.

when you walk the shoes
we wear
will you know?

the path to be
called beautiful
is full of
self-hate

and we pay for that bill.

The days when the wind is a little chilly,
The days when time passes a little too slowly,
Are you there in the same place living the same life?
Or am I the only one who's stuck in what has passed?

Will you find me once again in under this sky
Or will memories of us be swept away like the sand in wind
These days life seems too harsh
Time unforgiving
Sweeping away everything it comes across...

These days life seems too forgetful
Time sweeps everything it comes across
Memories of us....
Now but a distant dream...

Bare feet drum the dirt,
My ******* quivers,  anticipation.
Slaughtering fragile patience.
Nerves, played with too long,
Fray and snap with delicious excitement.

Our fleeting freedom  a slipping trance     of enlightenment    The waves beckon to us all
The moon is shared by the world again.

Youth and its laughter sparks
Across the bruised horizon
Raw hot pink, wet and lugubrious,
To purple fading night,
Where a new kiss tastes
Like salted life and spilled tequila.

As bonfires rage their hiss,
Smoke curls, a tickling that stitches
Our shadows to the night,
Remembering every touch
Like a crime worth repeating,
Living in our minds
Till we stumble, enfeebled.

I beg you, make my blood rush again,
My heart yearns to be alive,
With the squealing carelessness of innocence.

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The world is made of a malleable substance; that can be sculpted
Like clay and stone
Your hands and your soul
A beautiful story unfolds

death is a sneaky person
he can snake tendrils into the folds of your brain
while you stare at a blank page
hoping the slithering in your head
is inspiration begging to be let into the empty space

the time between was a constant crime
perjury over and over to a jury of past selves
the slithering I felt at 14 became a buzzing by 21
and at 23, could cause hearing damage
I had to scream my inner monologue
just to hear myself

death and I walked together
and soon, his grip on me
transformed into my grip on him
holding on tight to what he promised me
"death," I spoke to my longest friend,
"won't you take me soon?"

those words became breakfast on hard days
lunch on long days
until it was dinner every night

I finally had the courage to look him in the eyes
so that I might see who I adored so dearly
his grip loosened on me to take down his hood
and I saw the life I hadn't led
every promise I never kept
every cut that ever bled
I saw a quiet somber in death's eyes
and I realized I had to let him go

with a sad smile,
I indulged my old confidante
and promised to live until he was ready
to walk together again.

I’m hurting
I know your just doing it because you think it’s “for my own good”
But it isn’t and I hate it when you restrict me from everything that makes me happy
maybe you should try being less of a overprotective parent instead of trying to make me perfect