The cold metal grate calms her, as supple flesh conforms
into the crenellated ridge of many miniature rectangles.
With widening eyes focusing so goes her mind into spasms of elastic thought.
Unleashed imagination simulates the mass of steel and
plastic encapsulating her in a headlong tumbling orbit.
She lingers lonely as the space station spins.

Its in the way you look at me
The way you touch my thigh
Trail your finger up my leg
Over my hips, along my abs
I know not how you've sinned
Though you said you've been  bad boy
The way that you make me feel
Can only be described as heavenly

So how is it
that when you move with me
when you rock my body
kiss my tenderness
love with no boundries
I feel as though
I've sinned?

Nothing that feels this good
Can be anything but bad

heavy breathing
       and foggy windows
              this is truly a teenage romance

but when I'm with you
           I feel real
              and you really feel me

I'm not doing anything to stop you
      and you certainly lost control
                  4 items of clothing ago

truthfully I lost control
       3 items ago
               and I no longer care to think
                                                                              about any of this

I know I'm kind of odd
And weird and
Out of place sometimes.
But that doesn't give you
The right to tell me
That I'm wrong
Or stupid
Or ask what the hell
Am I doing
With a face that struggles
To keep itself straight.

Try not to laugh
At my antics
Or scoff at my freedom.
My pain is real
And profound
But that doesn't
Make you ideal.

I've always had
This free-spirited
Carefree
Out-of-control
Personality
That masks itself
In charms and
Childish grins.

What is it about me
That bothers you so?
Why do you pull
Faces at me
When I try to be me?

Blankets cannot hold her
Her mind within her head
Sheets can’t keep her thoughts asleep
Can’t keep her in her bed
                She said
“I’ll sleep tonight, I promise,”
But sleep just slips away
Slides and glides from tired eyes
Dark circles that cheap makeup hides
Restless here
                —She’s tossing—
Restless fear
                —She’s falling—
Not asleep, just in too deep
In swirling thoughts, anxieties
“There’s no time to rest,”
She says
“It’s hard to be the best,”
She says
The best at what?
She wonders, dim
The best are gorgeous, fine and slim
Not fleshy with insomnia
                With dreams that bring cold sweat
Two hours of the night consumed
                Nightmares she won’t forget
“Don’t let it get to you,”
She says
But what she sees as true
Will always, always make it through
Through her mind, straight to her head
                She isn’t safe inside her bed
Dangling by her restless thread
Awake but far too tired, still
                Repose is not an option here
Fatigue is but a minor flaw
                And time is just her greatest fear
Chronophobic pillow fights
Erupt when she turns out the lights
Between her worries and will to sleep
“I just can’t win,”
                She mutters, soft
It’s hard to hold the world aloft
To play at night with dynamite
Awake while bed bugs surely bite

Liner runs thin
as I examine the skin
where I look for a tell-tale mark
Left of a ring that would prove
I'm not alone.
(it's not there)

My back arches and
my body quakes
as deep inside
Infantile sexuality wakes
as my lips let fly
assumed and guessed sighs
of fabricated pleasure
(whatever that is)

They did not teach me these things
I was left to assume
as hearts often do
when they are kept in a room
and ushered away from the pains and joys
of Love

I stare into a mirror
and I stare back
Until all of a sudden
my smile cracks
and I'm left to stare
into the eyes of one
born to lose.

I hug warm pillows
and stroke my own hair
Until I realize he
is not
wasn't
and will never be there
and I'm left to assemble
a Shattered Glass Heart
with nothing but hammers for tools

But then I see myself
beauty and flaws defined
and at this point I know
the only glass heart I need
is mine
even in pieces, it retains it's strength
and waits to be whole again

So dormant I sit
mesmerized by the prisms the pretty pieces make
as I wait
for a true artist to come
and give this
Shattered Glass Heart
new form
with the heat of reassuring and shared existence
and the grace of gentle words and sweet kisses.