I made a song for you last week
And every time I hear the melody, it reminds me of your voice. So beautiful and high like the sun at dusk, so smooth like the creme color of your skin, so quiet like thieves in the night
I made a song for you.
I just wish that we lived to hear it.
No, neither of us is resting in a coffin, you’re just resting in the arms of someone who deserves you more than I do, I think I’m dead to you now
That’s cool. I’ve been zombified for years living an existence I felt meaningless since I was able to understand what the word meant, but I miss the way you gave me a reason to lift my head.
A reason to show a smile that you were in love with
A reason to use some of my creativity for happiness and not sadness.
I wrote a song for you
And as pen hit paper, I was taken aback to the time our heads collided on the first kiss and how we used to lock arms in the lunch lines like middle-schoolers.
Young spirits with old souls, what kindred black magic kindled the conception of this crush.I’m crazy, I’m crazy, completely ****** trying to find the path back to you.
I made a song for you.
But I’ll never show it to you
So I might as well rip it up and start over again.

Why are you here, my dear, sweet former interest?
Once, you were one of whom I wished to gain affection from, one I would have ultimately decided was worthy to love.
Once I could touch your cheeks and press closely to your body to remind you of how beautiful you were. Once I was able to listen to your conversations as raindrops formed over the both of our heads, making mad dashes to distract us with chilled wet bursts of falling adrenaline.
But it was nothing to us.
We would’ve been inseparable, body and soul.
You see, I knew that we were opposites. I knew that our minds would never match and I knew that we weren’t really going to go anywhere.
I knew this, and I kept going.
Why?
Why did I tempt the forevers and cause a tip in the balance of respectability? Had I really thought I was going crazy over you?
From body to mind to *** appeal, I thought you were what I could honestly think about…
I thought when you decided to give to me your body, that you were giving me your heart as well.
In my innocent mind, I figured it was a form of love.
I couldn’t and still can’t understand the grasp of how wrong I was, and just like casserole pans in an oven, when I try to reach for it, it burns me.
I figured we could let it ride like a joyride, I didn’t understand that you targeted me simply because I was a taboo to you, not that I was a good person, but I was just a cute face in this ugly world.
One finger to your lips as your other hand slinks up my inner thigh like a snake easing to helpless prey. Do you realize how confused you kept me as my mind fantasized about us talking, sensualizing, bodies making friction as we made a *** that had everything to do with love? Do you realize that I actually fell as opposed to your simple spreading of your legs?
Why did you have to change from what you were? Why disappear only to re-appear as a changed individual who I would willingly resent at any moment? Knocking at my door as I think of never talking to you again, I wish you to forever leave my life now.
So, please, unwrap the hand that has ensnared the key to my heart and give it back to me, for I get it now.
   You’d never use it anyways.

Is it bad to want? Because I hunger for attention.
I just can’t show it
I want the attention off someone, but my mind reminds me to be distant so that I don’t make a fool of myself/ But I end up spacing her away so much as to not only hide my wishes, but also turn her eyes to another.
Do I feel a jealousy?
No, to be honest, I don’t feel that. But what I do feel is a regret that I can’t be myself around such a free spirit.
I feel as though even if I try, I can’t be the person I am around such a crowd of people.
So I put on my facades.

I’m not rushing for love, just its attention and closeness.
I hunger for an appreciation that I can’t show I’m pining for. Thus is the only dilemma I truly have.
I’m caught in a myth

Pieces of my pride shimmer on her skin
Dressing her in my naked words
I love her so much that none can have her
I’m all that she deserves.

Being so greedy has got my mind confused
I never thought I’d hurt a heart or make her feel abused.

Now we sit together with adrenaline in the air.
We are love no more.
We are flooding streets.

Murky waters
Vinegar and salt smile
Sweet intentions with a sour escape
Hearts burst in the palms of the other

Drowning passion
Dagger kisses
Angry love

Water-wrecked minds
Hidden fears
Little communication

Tensions have risen in our tsunami of emotion

Maybe you weren't the one to hold my heart, but you sure had a firm grasp on it when you pulled away from me. Guess the warmth of it wasn't enough to heat your frozen soul.

I gotta learn to forget the bad you caused, cuz it always puts my mind in a frenzy. Never loved and lusted at the same time and you showed me that I had never felt any emotion like you could bring. The emotional charge associated with abandonment. *******

I remember how your hands felt the last time they were in mine. They felt comfortable. They felt warm and they fit like the pieces of a puzzle. Why didn't you let them stay there?

Girls like you value the struggle as a means of bringing interest into their personal lives. They adore ghetto mentality and think that hood ****** are the only good men. Girls like you are so ******* backwards. Why am I addicted to girls like you? I hate that I loved you. I hate that I lusted you. I can't believe i wasted my time teaching a girl like you what intimacy was even after you. I guess the teacher could never learn the lesson in this case.

Lips are meant to be kissed, but yours were meant to be bitten. I miss nibbling the ebony out of your darkness and lighting up a new fire. We burned so well that i never realized that we were burning out like a dwindling twilight blaze. it was never meant, and the realization is making me sicker and sicker the more I sit in front of this phone and call my common sense to me to only receive your whispers on the voice mail. Im emptier. Emptier than I've ever been because you took the life out of me. ******* thief.

Is it worth it to you?
All these tears that wet my lips, are my lips moist enough for you? Warm and juicy like honey apples that stimulate the senses like only flavor knows how.
Was it worth it is all I'm asking.
I'm dizzy, floating, choking on the bitter taste of a pill i cannot swallow. Help me, help me, I can't keep my food down or my attitude positive, or my voice from cracking like the skin on my lips as they dry from a lack of kisses from you.
Everyone in the population is addicted to their phones, I was addicted to you. And it may sound a little unorthodox because I left, but I already miss you. I wish time moved like Microsoft word: ticking with each stroke of the keys you control and allowing for rewrites to reach a perfect conclusion, I miss you. Maybe more than the feeling of comfort that once inhabited my soul or the warm hands that once occupied mine, I was a faithful concubine.
But was i really?
Who would've known that a month could span years? We moved so fast and i couldn't switch gears so I knew we would either crash and see our relationship fears or stomp the breaks and leave in tears. Im stupid, I know. But I don't know how to change that

Tell me why there is so much hate in the world these days but every religion claims it teaches love. Tell me why people hate black people or why parents are ******* or why we spend 14 years at school institutions for free but have to pay thousands a year for a college education. tell me how the caged bird got that way. My curiosity is burning hotter than the sun on the burnt skin of my ancestors wiped out by conquistadors and brought across an ocean of blood tears against the tide of their will.
What am I doing here? Where did I come from and where am I going? Why wasn't i born into a rich white family? Why do I have to watch my mother struggle with lips sewn shut because we don't struggle as bad as other families? Why is money even a standard of living when it's just a piece of ******* paper? See, I'm convinced that this world ain't ****.

Sometimes I wish I was the brotha from the boondocks. You know which one I mean: ***** with the swag *** afro and intelligence that keeps his enemies awake at night. An attitude that just screams "don't **** with me" and, just like a broken toilet, he don't take **** from nobody. Yeah, I wish that was me sometimes.

What's such a pretty girl doing with a stranger between her thighs and a camera in her face? What demons in her closet has she failed to embrace? What led her to this hallway of ******* that has her life hindered this way? doesn't she know that she's only a phase meant to fade away from the industry she's chosen?
As these thoughts enter my head, my lust always stays frozen. It leaves me wondering where my life is headed, hell, if she ran out of options what the hell is it gonna be like for me? I can't go into the adultery industry, so what will become of me? I hate to say it, but it made me sad laying there with a hand in my pants and my brain in high gear. There are no simple solutions for me in life, and I started to understand that.

I know of love; I know of lust, I know what's fair and what's unjust. I've seen the light, I breathe the dark. I've had a whole and broken heart. I've kissed your lips and felt the bliss, and felt things I will truly miss.

All the images tormenting my shackled mind tortured my creativity, black tears dripping like ink blotting the crisp white of new loose-leaf notes. My blood as blue as navy because I've been left sickeningly forever breathless. Day after night after night after day I would withstand an anguish that was more spiritual than physical, punching walls as if to escape their stone guard as my soul was wrenched like the hands of the anxious. you robbed me the chance to be something to somebody, an impact cutting deeper than the wrists of the suicidal attempting to escape the world of woe they rest their weary heads in. Hammer upon hammer banging on their skulls as the rage of fear and hope of escape taunt their wildered minds.
But they remain mother nature's lost children. And like them, I remain the solemn dot in the world's gorgeous hue of gold known as defective. As I'll never be the same shade again after  shade blackens my sight and darkens my colorful spirit. Help us if you can, we've been color-blinded in a colorful world.
How could you. You've placed me in this conflagration and led me astray farther into the fire. How could you. You've given me the strength to strangle my pride and yet you slit my throat and render everything I fought for useless. How could you? Sneak your way past the sentries securing my heart simply to steal it and crush it in front of my earnest eyes? How dare you?!
I've met the devil before. it looked nicer than I thought, five-foot six with pretty brown Dimples, and tasted like wine and cranberry sauce. Lips more lush than a botanical garden and eyes more addictive than ***** poppies. Be wary when you kindle this fire. For it is inevitable that those who play with fire get burned by it.

Imagine a time and place where all movements are stopped,
Where all beings are controlled by your feelings and your thoughts.
Where anything is possible and all around is green,
And where whenever you speak everyone hears you talk.

Alright, that intro was terrible, but I suppose I wanted to say
that the silent magic you possess, it takes my breath away.
Not intentional or forced at all, it’s just your sophistication,
It brightens tunnels in the dark; it can run monsters out of basements.
And it captures attention from others somewhat similar to you, for you shine a light that reverberates its way through us all, and I don’t know how you do it. My name is earth, you must be flora because I feel like we grow together. That’s why I try to speak when I see you. Granted I’m shy and people make me nervous, but for some reason I don’t have the same reaction around you. You are a question to me of which I have no answer, and when I try to ask, I fail to speak.
Perhaps it’s just stupid emotions, but I feel something in my mind that I can neither explain nor understand and it’s driving me crazy, so I’ll ask here: what are you like? Who are you really? What’s on your mind? Where are you from? Mind if we talk? What’s your story?
These questions are endlessly popping up with no answers, you’re a mystery and I’m no ******-Doo, so I’ll stay forever wondering, forever thinking things of you.
But maybe, just maybe some time in the future we will understand why
Such a beautiful spirit stayed silent and such a beautiful spirit stayed shy.
An angel I found in a school of shadows, a halo brightly over your head.
Only you cleared my darkened mind, only your answers can clear my head.

I need the music in my ears to silence all the sickness,
As my mind is falling hard and I cannot tame the darkness.

My heart is breaking from the pressure of life and my spirit is oozing failure as I fumble around listening to the rhythmless tracks of the hallway.

The air is the funk of fourteen-thousand feet and the stink of breath that I usually never notice.
My ears burn with conversations I've never joined and my mind is clouded with the deficiency of balance.

Help Me.
I'm calling out to you.
Help me survive this.

My fists hunger to lunge at love and destroy it the way it destroyed my starving soul.
How Could you be so cruel, love?
How could you go against your feelings for me?

My dreams dance around me like shadows dance around fire pits: swishing from side to side in so seductive a manner that I am mesmerized by their show. She is a dream to me. Dancing her body of lust around me in an effort to taunt me into submission, and I dare say I'm willing to submit to her.
There is an energy that she lets off that chokes my breathing when I speak and slows my reaction when our hands touch, for she is the kryptonite to my superman, and I willingly dive into her piercing crystals.
From the flick of her tongue, I know she is willing, come, butterfly, I will teach you how to soar as covers fly over over your body and your mind races with the pleasures I intend to lay upon you. Tell me that your mind doesn't get lost in the lust and I will tell you how much I'd love to prove you wrong.
Oh how I long to taste your seduction. On so many an occasion I had fantasized our connection as you paraded in front of me, dancing like shadows around a pit of fire. And I would savor the sight and enjoy the release of my love that ensued once my mind became clearer and my surroundings become empty.
My young goddess of lust. Might I savor your flavor and enjoy your skin like I wish? Perhaps one day when the timing is right, I shall take you down like I have countless times before in other realities and give you the taste of pleasure you pry me for.
Maybe one day I'll pull your head back by the hair and inhale your fragrance as I begin to devour you slowly and enjoyably for the world to see. Maybe one day I'll have you lie in front of me and open yourself for my exploration.
And on that day, I want you to know that you turned me into a beast of lust as built up like the seed I would eject into you.
You have turned me into a creature addicted to your skin. Addicted to your tongue. Addicted to your lips. A monster addicted to your ***.
You shall see my broken bonds as I tear your clothes, you shall see my shattered chains as I ram you with the anger hidden inside my brain and the frustration hidden deep inside my soul represented by the bite of my serpent.
And I shall abuse you.
Perhaps you'll respect me once you get a taste of the hell I had been through chasing you. Maybe when your back is bent, legs gaping and body frozen stiff by the fear of my lightening strikes will you see how willing I was to please you.
And not until I tear you apart will my flame of evil lust be extinguished. Not until your body is red from my pinches, not until your breast ache from the pull of my lips, or until the bite marks I leave you with begin to ooze your sweet nectar of red tears, not until then will I let you go. Even then, I may lick you clean once more and send you into the world a purified being.
You are a dancer in my eyes. A dancer of shadows and a product of the pit of fire from which you were birthed. But once I have your skin in my clutches, the only fire you'll recognize is the fire in my eyes as I make you moan the world away and the smoke brings tears to your eyes.

Her lips are so ashened that I feel the urge to lick them without seduction,
yet I kiss them and don't complain.
Her soul so dry that the rains fear her continues grounds of dramatic dryness.
Yet I continue to water her petals.
Her body so undesired that she barely looks at it. She carries each pound, from her unsatisfied lips and her ample breast to her thickened hips and woodened- brown toes, with a shrug of unacceptance.
Yet I still explore her with the interest of the lustful.
I kissed the lips of this wretched devil and grabbed Her by the backside as the knife in her tongue pierced my neck...
But I let it happen. So maybe I truly am to blame.
After all, to save a snake is a deed or valor indeed, but at the end of the day, the snake is the same animal it had always been.

Sitting alone in the darkness of my room, I allow my mind to wonder.
But the only thing that seems to show is the image of you, and I can’t help but become lost in the abyss of intentional mesmerism that is cast upon me when I synchronize my thoughts and emotion.
Skin the color of ginger Pricked with pepper-styled specs of acne that give her a signature stimulation in my mind. To inhale her close proximity is to inhale the scent of cinnamon and honey layered thick on the warm releasing heat of candles dripping wax tears to stone floors as they gaze at her perfection.
Oh how lost I get in her presence.
She arises in me a need to capture her humility and turn it into a self-worth compatible with royalty. She arises in me a need to hark her easy listening and sway her into the darkened end of deserted dance floors I envision in my mind.
I am besotted by her unintentional euphony.
Her hypnotism is so strong that I find myself mentally caressing her smiling cheeks as we stare into each other’s souls, glasses fogged from each breath but eyes locking as seriousness takes over us.
I press her close and lean in smoothly, one hand clutching hers and the other flicking her hair back ever so slightly away from her lips so that her lips are freed for mine.
I have visions of a forged passion ensuing each moment I see her.
I have thoughts of the harmonious waves of sound flowing from her strawberry red lips.

Is it wrong to crave the innocence I think she has? Is it sad that I imagine her better than my body can relay images to my brain and that I have fallen in love so often with my own interpretation that I don’t speak lest she destroy the wish I have for her attention?
My honey sweet wannabe lover with the body of warmth and the smile of heaven. She is my one true fantasy that I could never do justice. She is the only image of perfection I see nowadays, the only image of contentment worthy of being synonymous with the word, she is the world that I want and the culture I shall adapt to please.
She is my crush.
And I am intimidated by the power that I’ve given her.
She is My-Wish

I hear voices in my head that guide my actions. I'm not crazy, I just like knowing somebody agrees with me.
Around the age of 10, these voices came to me in an attempt to make me forget about all my struggles. They were there through the thin of my lips to the thick of my Gluteus and stayed ever-present through the first feelings the spark of love.
And once that spark was extinguished and I began to shame my body, my voices calmed me and quelled the rising need to escape the gloom. They told jokes. And I laughed heartily, kissing my palm and placing it to my forehead as an offer of complete infatuation with the voices.
But it didn't remain that way. We began to argue in my mind, shifting my action into chaos as I began to realize that my brain had become a cave harboring a snake like a zoo. So I stopped listening.
I didn't want to hear them anymore, I wanted them to shut up.
But they never did.
At times, they would get very quiet just to yell at a rate to leave ringing in my ears, and I would cry at their pains.
By mid-puberty, I had grown accustomed to these shouts. I had even learned to ignore them. And most of the loud voices began to disappear.
But One remained, a single cage to my canary. A bite to my jugular and a constant reminder of the sickness I claimed in my mind.
He only came around when I was upset, and he’d always etch me into actions so regrettable that he didn’t realize affected him as well.
He wanted me to die.
For years I combatted him, cursing him into a withdrawal but then speaking up a weakness that would inspire his powerful words and presence again. Oh how mighty his power over me was.
His very voice sent chills through my spine and blood rushing through my veins. His tone turned my blackened skinned the color of used, sopping wet coffee grinds. The bite present in every consonant he uttered made my ears pop with unease as if the pressure grew under my eyelids.
He was my demon.
After my second attempt at love had fizzled he had been the one to tell me to slash that tire. He was the reason I bit Jamea’s lip and drew the taste of rich blood to my tongue hungrily as if vampiric. He was the reason I spent so many nights up crying in fear as I would chant “What’s happening” or “what am I doing”… or “why am I still here”
His counsel became sadistically acceptable, nearly sexually desired to me as the depth of his voice boomed with close proximity to my heart. I could feel the warmth of my body grip the chill of the air and I’d chuckle like a school girl.
This became my reality, a bubble of sadism sautéed with fear and drenched in disgust. He would addict me to the taste of blood, the color of death. He would introduce me to the feeling of pain and the emotion of anguish.
And I began to love it. I would press pen tips to my skin and draw the sweet nectar of my essence.

Of course, no one understands me. They say I need help.
Maybe they’re right
But every time my mind becomes aware of the hold from him, he soothes me with box cutters and cuddles in the warmth of my skin’s openings.
I’m in love with his deception and his truth. I love the life he has given me and never again will I complain when I hear
the voices

Who was he to you? The one with the track jacket and Iphone 6s. The one you swore was a step above me while we were dating and the one you swore wasn’t a problem while we were together.
Why did you leave me when my mind was on the verge of self-destruction? I always gave you the closeness you needed when you were on the edge of oblivion, couldn’t your selfish *** have backed me when I needed it most?
If what we had wasn’t love, what was it? There’s no way to tell you how much I feel you were a waste of time. The image of your body under mine sends a chill of intimacy imitation to my brain that is promptly shot down like black kids on white streets.
When the dumpster in you begins to realize how much trash it literally contains, will you please lose my number? I lost everything because of a guy with a better body and a better phone. I can’t tell if you’re serious or not, but regardless, when things don’t go your way, don’t pick up the phone your parents bought and dial my digits. I’m going to show you just how many of the ***** I lost about your emotion.
Why did it take me so long to realize this? Day upon day, month upon month, I was lonely and you pat me on my shoulder to tell me I’m being a drama queen. I forgot my emotion and am publicly blank, so I hope you got your “tall dark and handsome” boyfriend that you always wanted.

From the depths of the ocean in your body, I always tend to find the geysers of satisfaction.
Breaking your body down in ways that make the profession of love minor to us both.
When we speak, the words flow like waterfalls that chip away the ice around your frozen soul and bring the heat of a thousand ages under frost now freed of the gymnophoria, the mental ******* that society does to it.
You are opened.
My cocoa skinned Cinderella, chocolate to the taste and caramel to the senses.
You are my forbidden treat that I indulge in with inconsistency, and when I leave, you always melt into the hands of evil habit.
Tears in the eyes of which I had only known happiness, story upon story uncovered on your emotion and the only thing I could do is ****** comfort you with the sailing a sad ocean.
I never did tell you I loved you, and now I regret it.
Maybe if I would’ve said that word, that rope wouldn’t have ended around your neck.
Maybe the wry smile of mischief wouldn’t have been replaced with the scowl of a year in love’s drought.
And with the tears you cried for me, I made my armor, an armor of strength I got from pushing you away, covering my shoulders in snake skin and play the role of deceiver, for as you know, all us snakes love the rain.
You would clasp my picture and cry as if I had died, thinking too much of me and directing me message after message after message until my inbox and voicemail were full, and I ignored you.
I pushed you to it with my promiscuity.
“No love for the loveless”, they said. “All hearts are equal in the eyes of god.”
I tried to return your call last year, but I only got the voice of your mother, maddened in disgust and rage in me and crying when she saw the caller ID with a heart on it.
She told me what happened, and I dropped the phone and cried.
This is the love rain: the rain that only emotion can inspire, for I thought I felt nothing for your innocent soul, but as it turns out, you were my everything.
And losing you to suicide was my worst mistake.

Breaking barriers like children break toys
With an air of practice
Looking to the sky with a thought of disembarkment, as life may be a journey, but my ticket isn't exactly taking me where i would like to go.

Cinder flamed ashen skin covers my lips as the thirst grows in my ravaged brain. I lick them and the wind soaks up the moisture.
The heatwave of my body is made aware in my eyes.
I blink yet the sights don't seem to register.
I speak, yet the words don't escape my vocal chords.
I feel, yet the tangibility isn't confirmed in any aspect.
Emptiness is made a factor.
I found out sorrofully that I couldn't connect with the caged bird, I thought I understood why it cried, but my meaning was incorrect, my thoughts were that of a loveless loner ready to embrace the freedom of the cage in its heart.
I was thoroughly incorrect. Why does the caged bird sing?
It sings because it wants others to feel its pain, it has nothing to do with perserverence.
It sings because through song anything is possible, through song
It finds its escape...

Not long after the birth of a poet, the death of a love was decided. It wasn't on purpose, it was the cycle of wash rinse and repeat
Trapped in a never ending circle. Thought, pressure, decision and all over again.
Today marks the day of deletion for me, the day a worthy lover was found and the day us two embarked on a journey to twist the arms of time and make our own futures...... today also marks the day of which I regret our meet.
Once was enough, twice was offensive, but three times hurts enough to render me dying.
It's not the fact of what you did, it's the fact that we can't share that connection. It's the fact that I feel too much to make that move or ask for that photo. I thought it was what I always jump to assume.
Love.
But I'm not making that mistake anymore. From here, I'm straight on the offense, no longer shall my soul be forced to put up with the abuse of the poetess who chooses her words like a shark chooses the perfect sized prey.
I'm Done from here on out.

I know she's worth my effort by the look she gives as she smiles me off. Maybe it's just a crush but it's something I'm willing to follow, and so I'll do it with the utmost sincerity.
The way I look at her is the way I'd look at goddesses of her tier, and as one, she gets the power of change over me.
The things I'd do for that woman, the things I'd do to keep her pleased and content with me,
the things I'd purchase,
the things I'd endure,
the things I'd force alive...
I would make her my boo.
I can see us walking now, holding hands as I cherish her warmth between our palms, in a heaven formed by two mentally equally yoked individuals attracting so much attention and love that those before them become jealous.
I can see us kissing and smiling for no reason, only connecting as physically as we do through the mind.

My Boo
She is my myth and my truth, my life and my breath, my brightness in death.
My love.

The fantasies are endless for me, ever the tease is the feeling of mutual love and loving that I fall asleep to the dream every night..

Body rocking happiness as we love each other's minds to a lull, bodies compressed into one as we made a new form of delicious.
It's clear I was ***** minded. My lips tingled as I watched her toes curl and listened to her voice ask for more. ****** after ****** until her voice hit a high note and It would chill my spine into a frozen jut into her once more before my breath became shallow and I would look down at my prey.
I would see that smile and lick my lips in excitement, more than ready to allow this round to end.
She would turn herself over and let me grab her cushion as I gave her the most I could without tipping over and closing my eyes. She would breath heavily into my pillow and hiss between her teeth, clutching at the covers like they were the only thing to keep her from falling.
The feel of her body would be enough to motivate me to continue until i heard louder moans from my baby, she would giggle at me and beg me to end it for her.
But I would make the little devil wait for it. And with a smile I'd tease her essence with the sweet words of linger that would let her know that I'm in it til her end. And then I'd tease her body
ever so softly
ever so firmly
until I would make her body shake uncontrollably and she would move on me, faster and faster until I would have to grit my teeth and regretfully ask her to slow down. But she wouldn't listen. She would have it, and she would have it now.........

But before the ******, I would always awake from this dream and sigh. My mind might be slightly *****, but a ***** mind without action is simply a mind that belongs to me.
A mind filled with fantasy

The beauty that once defined her has now defied her.
The curve of her lips
the swish of her body
the melody of her voice
all so beautiful to the world yet they bring her to a depression.
How?
Why is she so burdened by the things that make her so lovely to the eyes?

My body a store and my heart is the item.
Remember, if you break it you buy.
But if its yours, I can give you a warrantee
Because I know that my prices aren't shy.

Blackened eyes for the sights I'll never see.
Red tears burst from cuts in my hands.
I am a victim of a darkened reality.
For I am different from my kind, and I am different from Man

Lilies Dancing in the winds of blown bombs over my crashing city of delicacy.
Body craving pleasures produced by electric dedications.
Mind venomous as snakes in the grasses that run over my colored flowers of perfection as they slither hideously toward me, trying to get a sip of the inner being known as me.
Thousands of feet trampling through my serenity like I am the grounds in a war zone- no harmony.
Chilled through the bone as I see the smokes of blazes flow through the air with a menacing perspective.
Glazed eyes as I stare down an enemy I can't see, fighting the feeling of being crushed like the grasses beneath his feet.
I must fight back, I must get out, I must get away.
Thrown fists and black sight, heat so strong yet so clear and crisp that it could've been produced abnormally.
A body cleared and a soul freed, yet us stuck on the earth are still being crushed by unseen force like flowers in a field
Shattered Irises

Choosing a side in the game of love is useless in all aspects.
For there is nothing more devious than a player at his best
Yet there is nothing more heartening than the victim of an absent hearted demon...
This must mean the game stays at an eternal stalemate of deliberate solemn cries.

No more anger, no more tears
No more lies, no more fears.

Sounds Like heaven, right.
If it exists, that's where I hope I'm heading.

maybe I am bedeviled by thoughts of you everytime my mind slips into the abyss, maybe that's the reason I don't tap into it the way I used to.
But If I told you how I felt, it'd get swept under the rug.

Suppose my eyes burn behind these creme- thick glasses everytime I see you, suppose I hate the silence and fight the urge to burn my surroundings with the heat behind my eyes.
But if I told anyone what I saw, it'd get swept under the rug.

Imagine I listen to music and hear your voice, so I claw my headphones out like they were ice seeping into my skull and freezing my cranium with words oh so soothing as a double-edged blade sinking both ends into me, Imagine a tear escaping my eyes, voice raising in a blatant attempt to ease the pain.
But If I said a word about what I hear, it'd get...... well, I think you know what'd happen.
Lets dig under that rug, four feet by four feet area of infinite emptiness.
Half of my life has been hidden in there: emotions, mental, thoughts, pains, lusts, curiosities, questions, intents, past, present and future, all have been hidden under that rug.
It's stitches are one with my soul because it has so many of my confessions that it absorbs part of my soul.
I trust that rug more than I trust some of the hoes I claimed to trust from day one.
I trust that rug more than I trust some of the friends I've had since meeting.
That rug has an affinity for gaining people's trusts, like me.
That rug produces more positive vibes than power chords produce energy, and yet we wonder why something being swept under the rug is a bad thing.
I sweep myself under the rug because I know I'll be safe there. I know that with all the thoughts and emotions I share, that with that safe haven, I am assured.
I rest under the rug, I cry under the rug, I sleep under the rug.
As it is my home.
And I love it's sincere serenity.

No emotions.
No pains.
No love.
Just emptiness. Maybe it was heart break, maybe not. But I'm chill with it at first...
Then my brain goes numb.
and my body quivers in public, me trying to play it off. But I know what it is.
My emotions, my anger, my love
all coming back to me.

My phone rings at two in the morning, it can only be one person.
I listen to her newest trouble with him and hear her sobs in my ear.
Only when the sun stung her skin would her tears dry this day.
She would wait for him, listening to him lie to her and she would cry to me about his mistrust.
She never broke that cycle, though she was a broken heart.
The next night doesn't change, she cries about his newest issue and how she wishes she could leave him. But she's too close to him to see the possibility of even her own words.
"Leave him", I said, "he doesn't deserve you. Any man would rather be dead than play with your heart." I told her. But she wasn't hearing it.
I was tired of hearing her sob stories, I wanted her to do something to get out of this. No more anger, no more crying, no more sorrow, only happiness.
I wanted her to see a life without him.
But she didn't see that vision, so I had to let her go. But I couldn't, I would always stay her shoulder to cry on and she knew it. So the cycle continued.
But now it's five in the morning and no call....
I take it as a sign of happiness and let it alone.
Now its seven and I'm confused, she would've called by now at least to wish me a good morning.
it's nine at night and I call again, wanting to hear her voice again, but she doesn't pick up.
I call again, in a panic, she would never reject my call. I call again and again until it's nearly eleven PM and she still doesn't pick up.
My phone dings with the notification of a facetime request. I pick up and just stare at her.
Eyes blood shot
dried lines of tears on her cheeks
and her mouth pursed in a way to show she was about to cry again.
She doesn't look at the screen, she only puts her head down and lets out a deep emotion felt sigh before speaking.
"I love you too much not to have you here at this time. I'm sorry, please forgive me." She says.
What are you talking about? what's the problem, why arent you picking up the phone? All these questions and she doesn't answer one. She only puts the phone down and levels it so I can see her. A gun is on her bed now, she picks it up and raises it to her head. I'm screaming now. I'm trying to talk her out of it but she cries and pulls the trigger in front of me.
I jolt up in shock. My fear taking hold as my eyes pour water and I can do nothing but yell and cry.

It's six in the morning, police find her body on the floor of her apartment with all evidence pointing to her suicide.
She was broken. Her mind not her own and her love to one who played her one too many times, she became a killer.
They found her, but what they hadn't known was that she had killed another that night.
What they didn't know is that she was heartbroken in every possible way and that her hunger for revenge grew everytime she saw his face.
What they didn't know was that she was too weak.
What they didn't know was that she couldn't survive the broken years.

Winter cherries
My heart is one of warmth and color, but a rarity in all aspects.
Like winter cherries
Sweetheart swarms in sudden bursts of imagination, stopping my heart and purifying the air with each breath she takes.
Never has the silence sounded so sweet as when it comes from her.
Never has invisibility been so noticeable as when she does it.
Never will I be able to share or distribute such a purity as she has.

Her chill is so obvious that there are no boundaries to the conversations we inaugurate. We ride the waves of giggles and chuckles that we form, playful arguments made and led into deeper conversations never finished.
I love the way we converse like buddies yet everything about us speaks of distant strangers. I wonder does she feel the same.
It’s something in the way her voice shakes or the way her eyes dart through mine when she looks at me. It’s something about the way she smiles in a way that shows she’s fighting it.
It’s her personality
It’s who she is.
And I’m shocked to say that I’m being struck down by her energetic placidity.
I wonder more about her than any other possible that I’ve ever known. I think of what she’s like and how she’d treat me if she knew me more. I wonder what I look like in her mind and what I look like out of her mind as well. I wonder how much she thinks about me, if at all. And the only answer I get is that of cherries in calmed snowstorm
Stems filled with white crystals as light as air itself when alone, yet at the collected fruit they weigh tons.
Falling in slow motion as the last crisp it could bare falls to a rest on its ruby red outer shell.
Frozen in air as I walk past and see it. Only wondering how long it should stay before it succumbs to the inevitability of gravity.
And her voice cracks my concentration.
It falls.
But no noise shall it make, it shall stay as quiet as the snow itself and remain a music in my mind.
The befalling of her voice
The falling of winter cherries.

Tiny particles of friendship formed between us as we talked in class. It wasn't easy to speak for either of us, but as time went on it became easier.
We Grew.
From a small convo to a late night text within a matter of days, the particles of our association formed a dust in the bottom of our minds.
And we began to gather.
Tell me what we were thinking, you a crush and I a passion. We were destined to get lost in time.
But we strengthened.
We collected under the name of understanding and particle after particle, laugh after laugh, kiss after kiss.
We became a glass as pure and untouched as time itself.
You are my diamond, my passion, my expense, my life
My Love
And I know you can't see it because of the gleams your eyes make when your truth hits my inner shine and the heights are formed.
But it's pieces form slowly as your hands lace in mine and your heart becomes my jeweler.
We are love
We are passion
We are the embrace of admiration.
The product of the kiss between the sun and moon.
Forming Crystals

What if we got lost tonight? Tell me, would you be glad to be with me?
Because there’s honestly nobody I’d rather be with than you.
It’s just something about you, baby girl, that’s got me wondering if I could know you a little deeper,
If I could be a little closer to you,
If I could be a little louder with you.
Tell me what your pretty eyes see when you look across the table at the image of confusion and chaos known as me. Tell me what you hear when my voice cracks in the morning as I laugh at something stupid.
I’m so numb right now that I can’t think of what I’d say to you, my lips trying not to curl as I notice you bite your lip. How is it that you can’t see you’re taunting me?
Your beauty so noticeable and your purity so undefined that you make children purr, crooning like kittens cuddled into blankets in your warm grasps.
My god, you’re so beautiful. Why am I falling for you? Soothing voice that sends chills through my spines as my body shakes off the dusted burdens of past loves, making room for only you as I readjust my nature to fit yours.
What is it about you, wonder girl? Two years older than me yet an eternity apart. You’re quiet yet speak volumes in your eyes. Sweet and sensitive nature and a Latina sashay about her, yet you see nothing but pure inexperience in her eyes.
Nothing but pure outcast.
We are two, yet we are similar. And I’m drawn to her because of it.
Senior seduction unintended yet ever so real it should be a shame, if only I could get her to even remotely look my way.
She is my phantom, another thought in my mind that might never be fulfilled, another dream at night never turned reality.
Talking in her face and making her laugh at corniness, kissing her lips and looking deep into those pretty dark brown pools, feeling her warmth as our hands connect and her head rests on my proud shoulders.
I will be forever haunted by the dream to feel that love.
To feel a reaction of two cold souls making heat from snow.
To feel the emotion so long cursed and so long denied.

To feel Her love.

I killed her
I told her not to blame me for being the creature that was spawned.
The love we shared made a monster out of me.

I did it.
I slit her throat as I bit her sensually, my tongue tasting blood as it explored her neck.
I sent stabs into her heart as lips touched and hands combined.
I crushed her lungs as I climbed on top, hearing her whine as I rocked slowly, shifting us a little, grinding on her.

But it wasn’t really her…
Just someone who looked as pretty and was infinitely more loose…
But she saw. My love saw me on top of this stranger.
She saw our bodies grinding and heard her moans.
She assumed the worse.

I killed her.
I killed the love of my life with my untrustworthiness.
And I dig the grave of regrets deep enough for the dead to rest comfortably until they seek their revenge on me.

Static builds around my fingertips as I run my fingers down the jacket you left me.
I **** my hand away in shock.
My energy is still electronegative for you.
I try to build up my thoughts and let them tumble, I try to put myself in an emotional slump over you, I try to feel real anguish for  you.
But all I get is magnetic repulsion.
I realize I don’t know you..
So why the hell should I tear myself down
because our intimatic electricity ran its course

I want to say hi to her, I want to tell some stupid joke.
But any glimpse of her eyes gets me paralyzed faster than medusa.
How would I be able to speak if I can’t talk around her?
So I just make her poems that she’ll never know exists.
I spend time fantasizing about how it could be or how I wish it was, but I never speak and any time she’s around, I turn statue. I articulate words with such a finesse that it surprises even me, and then I don’t release the “Masterpiece” to anyone other than the beings in my head.
And yet, I wouldn’t  have it any other way. No, believe me, baby girl, I’ve played the game before and I have a knack for losing it. So I just stay stationary, watching her smile or bite her lip and then looking away fast out of embarrassment at my faith in such an infatuation.
I know it’s crazy, but I guess that’s truly what I search for, the cycle of crush and quiet.
Crush Crazy

Alicia, Alicia
Reminding me of a once blissful time. I wonder if you ever think about it. Living a life of laxity and becoming a being of chill from attitude to soul.
You are so beautiful. You remind me of the possibility of our probability your name a legend in my heart.
I still hear your voice telling me goodbye the first time, just smiling with books in your hand… I never stopped smiling that day.
But only a year later, you left for good. I don’t blame anyone, I understand you had to go.
But I want you to know that I watched you walk out that door. I felt solemnity in that last hug and could taste your tears when I kissed your baby brown cheek.
Alicia, Alicia
Where are you now, baby girl?
What’s on your mind and who do you taunt now?
I must have a problem falling for phantoms, for when I finally open up and show my real personality, she always slips past my numb fingers and away into the dark.

If I get to wish upon a rose tonight
All I want is to see your golden eyes.

I love the way your skin dances in the heat with not an inch of sweat while daunting your perfection.
I love the way your eyes glisten as you catch a moonlit grace from heaven, so beautiful you offend the sun.
I love the way your body sways as your hips swish when you know I’m watching. You’re too seductive for your own good.

But if I could wish for anything, I’d wish for you to drop the act.
Take off that **** make-up, your skin’s beautifully dark brown, don’t change it.
Get rid of that girdle, dear god those his curve without it.
Take off that wig and those fake nails, baby girl, I know your nails look tacky, but your imperfections are perfect so tell me why you need to look like someone else.
And of all the things, take out those blue contacts, for though I know the true color is brown, I can’t see the façade when your contacts are out. I can see naught when I stare at you
Nothing but your golden eyes.