If want was water,
I would be drowning, my head under completely
and my oxygen quickly depleting.
If confusion was cold,
My fingers would be numb and I wouldn't even
have a coat to ward off the freezing.
If youth was you,
It would be slipping away by the second,
And I can't get a hold to stop it.
Now,
my air is gone,
I'm shivering to the bone,
and can't keep a hold on.
But, this is only a poem:
I know I'm not suffocating, subzero, or slipping.
But I can't help but feel like the more I write,
the farther I get from reality
and the closer I get to metaphor mortality.

Hashtag my soul away, so many can see it
I’m waving my hands saying hey look at me
Posting pics, statuses and videos
Can’t do it quietly
I want them all to See
Envy me and make me their fantasy
A few likes on this post is not enough
I deserve to get liked like I’m roylaty
adore me while you stare at the pictures
I spent hours cropping, adding more filters to guard my insecurities
Before I hashtag it, I dress it with perfection
Cut out any ugliness, clean up the mess
Show the world purity
because if they see the negative
their words will expose my insecurities
Behind this screen I found a secured me
That is the side I only want them to see
So I hastag popular tags so they can all see
The better side of me

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

since when
did
sin
taste so
good my love..