Is it the way her hair flows as we kiss in the winds of autumn, or the way we touch by a lake of moonlight?
Whatever it is, I’ve been caught like I was falling, and I was indeed.
I felt she was special, felt she was an inspiration to me more than just physically, more than just emotionally.
She was an extension of my spirit and a personal angel. She was a piece of me that fit the place of the one missing…
But now my puzzle is no longer complete. Now my soul feels funny, so funny that I can’t identify the buzz that is apparent.
Was it the fact that I knew it would happen or the fact that I hoped it wouldn’t that makes me feel this way?
Do I feel comical or pain? Hurt or hilarity? I’m stuck somewhere I’ve never been, walking the wild woods with warmth slowly seeping out of my fingertips and collecting into the darkness as my body grows colder.
But I am a factory of warmth.
This is why I feel this way. Not broken, but still rebuilding. Not hurt, but still heeling. I am confusion’s worst nightmare, but constant lover.
I am a rock in the middle of the pond that breaks the constant flow of the water around me.
But I am the sole rock to do it the way I do, and so regardless of how the water breaks, I still feel empty in such a large pond.
I am the embodiment of dangerously delicious curiosity and tantalizing intrigue. I challenge the forbidden and go against the normality simply for the hell of it.
But I’m still just a kid. And like any other
I still need love

my wishes of clarity aren’t answered in time, I am in a state of longing.
I am a drizzle.
My mind is full of fantasies. My heart full of accidental burdens.
I am now the rain.
It won’t clear, I still feel that longing, It begins loathing in my heart.
My rain pours and I turn into a storm.

A being formed on the verge of insanity and off the coast of tornadic, and a mind on the verge of chaotic.
I calm.
Leaves falling to the ground as my unforgiving rains relent.
But it is merely momentary. For the thoughts always return.
The rains pour as my mind clouds, the winds rise as my heart sinks. My eyes water as the thoughts circle around and around in my consciousness.
I am a hurricane
Let me whine on my via dolorosa.

By the love in my heart, I never meant to do you any wrong.
In all my meaning, I intended to curb your appetite for love to the best of my intentions. Only, the hunger for it in your heart was so voracious that, even if I were to have been around enough for it to have made a difference, I couldn’t have sated you. And I humble myself to that fact.
By the heat of my body, I never meant to miss you. I thought what was past was past and that I could escape it by running. But I’m out of gas on an abandoned highway and your memory stuck behind me, willing to show its presence but not to pass me.
By the chill in my soul, I never meant to abandon you. Sure, you brought out the worst in me, skipping classes, cursing more, using every knot of energy to find different ways to connect to you, but you also brought out the best, for if it wasn’t for you, I never would’ve figured out how pivotal human love was to me. I still crave it to this day like junkies and needles.
But I can’t feed.
Let’s admit it, I say everytime that I won’t find someone like you and that I’d stop trying, but I always do and then treat them the same way I treated you- with contentment, but a sense of caution, not too close to be intimate but not far enough to be distant. And then I leave. It’s my schedule, my signature of leaving a trail of confused and broken hearts behind as if I were smashing glasses.
I’m sorry for the pains that I might’ve caused you… You all, for there’s more than one in the works whenever I’m foreman.
Brianna, Sarah, Katrina, Sade, Erykah, all of those who I believed I left confused if not alone. I was unclear of intentions because I didn’t know what my intentions even were, I was winging it like birds on their migrations. And now I’m stuck in a reminiscent past like tires stuck in muddy earth.
Am I allowed to feel such empty emotions? Am I allowed to feel apologetic even if nothing was deemed wrong? Wronging all of those who come to me like grading papers, but still in the field looking for a future counterpart, my next meal as if I’m a vulture.
And for that, I can never forgive myself enough to rise over it.

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.

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.

I hear angels every time I enter the classroom.  They call from one place, always seeming to come from one particular individual.
The one of whom I would’ve given my heart to at that first moment’s notice.
She was beautiful in more ways than I think she realized, but I hope was well loved. Even though she was my crush, I never really got to know her much.
What I remember about her now is only a distant memory but one that’s cemented in my mind all too well for the archives of my cerebrum.
She was shy, maybe, or just didn’t have much she wanted to talk about. And her name rings in my ears still as I think of the “what ifs” of if she would’ve opened her heart to me, the rocking chair of the earth, eager for love yet slow for conflict.
I, of whom have been known now as poetic justice, she, the backbone of which I stand, boosted, yet she gets no credit, no credibility. I always stayed customarily in my place, wonting, wanting to show her the rare sight of specialness and sensibility that was on my heart.
But she wouldn’t speak to me.
Offer a yearbook picture. No
What about a friendly chat, what do I say? Why is my soul straining to accumulate the same personality that I yearn to show her? Why is it so complicated to talk to the one who stays her tongue and parses words to speak more than one word at speech?
But I respected that, for cinnamon tastes bitter without a mix of sugar .The sweetness she provided and the flavor I had. Yet no mix, the cinnamon stood alone but was still used in the kitchens of life in the sweets concocted by that of whom designed the vision.
Daja.
Black hair, almond skin, glasses made to fit her solemn eyes, and a soul whose presence blessed every room I entered that she was in. I admired her, and still do, for she  was her own center, off the grid yet advanced in every way.
A constant inspiration, I wrote my first published piece in honor of her.
Daja.
The ninth wonder of the world yet the first of such potency to me. She, the one of whom I would think of when I’d hear the word “Perfection”. Yet she spoke little to me.
Beautifully white smile, enchanting gaze of which sent chills up my spine as I matched. One could solve complex equations in her presence by just contemplating her shear brilliance. But she didn’t let herself flourish with the others.
And I respected that.
Lips as full as a child at a buffet, and she parted them little. I’d proved myself time and time again to be a fool in front of her and it shook my morale with every mistake I made.
When I hear her name I think of drake’s “From time” which symbolizes what state of mind I was in when around her.
A queen in the making and a princess by all standards, yet she noticed me little. This deep voice, awkward personality, and crafty word usage couldn’t ensnare her. She was set on her goals.
And I respected that.
But whatever happens in our human lives, I hope she finds all the happiness in the world that she deserves, for she deserves the maximum.
They call it a crush, but why? We were friends, wait, associates by societal standards, yet there was a feel there. Something that affected me even as my last days in her immediate area waned away.
Now I hear angels when I hear her name.
Daja.
The soul of the sphinx with the heart of a lion and the appeal of a peacock. She, the silence with which I was happy to have, the angel in the next seat, the beauty technically by my side.
Daja
The one with my eternal respect and admiration.

My heart is like an animal, and you, my love, the tamer.
You are the very glue that holds me together, and I think you know it. From the first time I saw you pass me in the hallway, I knew that our souls would somehow connect, and you were to be my other soul, my other part, a new me.
Did you feel it too? Did you know what it was I was feeling? Because I felt like you did. From your shy laugh to your sullen conversation, all of you intrigued me, and you didn’t even have to try. I knew I was probably a few numbers down on your list, but this wasn’t the lottery for us, we were meant, and ironically it took longer for us both to recognize it and shorter for us to separate, yet still be together in spirit.
When I saw you that day, and you saw me, I knew the flame was reconnected as if it were fed into the very pit of which it would burn and multiply for all eternity, a new born flame for a newly forged love.
We are the fire
I the flame
You the fuel
Yet neither is effective without the other, for what is a flame without its fuel? It’s a mere spark, one whose heat may be felt for mere half instances and leaving a forsaken light to show its treachery. No, that wilt not be us this here day.
You and I know what this is; an intermission to us is actually a life-time to the world. Let us glide on the wind that we produce through the rotations of our natural axis, rotating around each other like dance partners, yet no sport do we see this as.
You’ve asked before what my hidden intentions were, and I was honest with it, I have none. Yet because of the cracks in your heart and the chips taken off of your acceptance and pride, you refuse me. But I’ll be patient, waiting for you like the crops wait on the sun for their nourishments, but don’t keep me waiting too long lest you drive my soul away from you.
Now do you see it? I am truer than a fable told by the witness, you can put trust in me. But no, you don’t see me the way I do. Over time I may be able to break down your barriers, but not at once. And when that time comes, when I miraculously pass your tests, I want you to look me in my eyes, smile that beautiful smile and speak to me.
“My love, his love, her love, their former, my current, and their never seen future. Love me like I love you, for now that I see into you my air is lighter and my courage raised because I know that I have you backing me no matter what. Thank you for the love, for without it I would not have managed. Kiss me like you do, that way I can feel your heat adding to mine as if this were addition.”
And I would kiss you. I’d watch you bite your lip as if you were confused and make you believe what you have seen, the true love of a king, a god, a lover, your lover. That one that sees you as a friend that is closer than the rest will ever get, that one that keeps your secrets passed the grave, past eternity, past indefinitely and all the way until the end. Your shoulder filled with the tears you cry and the confessions that you spoke. Your necessary outside view in every situation you require me, and your third-party vote against whatever you deem unfit for you.
Love me like you do and we shall be fine, for your delicious love is all my taste-buds have ever, ever desired.

Isn’t love what we think it is? You have me falling in love like a trap-door, and I’m all yours once I re-enter. You are my space, everytime I’m around you I get blank that way you may fill me with your tales, with the memories of you and I, us and we. Plural life as if we were words, but in a way we are. I can go down a list of adjectives that describe you, yet only one word describes us.
Infatuated.
Our souls are two blades curved in on themselves, yet when they are placed together form the sacred symbol of what we find as love. Irony in it’s purest form.
You refuse to cease to amaze me, so grant me this one favor, when you hear the voices of your past, think of my voice, my walk, my face, my hands, my love. I will forever miss what we will have when the days are done.
You place me in a garden of echoes. I hear them wherever I go, so is it safe to tell you that you are my garden? Is it safe that you know that your voice is like a lullaby to me? Because it’s true. Without the mellifluous voice of intimatic emotions biting on my ear, I can’t function correctly.
So I always miss what I have, what I may lose one day, but I always remember that an echo isn’t an echo until it is found once more by the ears of the one that had sent it’s vibes askew. So I’ll be waiting, my love, until I find your voice becoming my echo.

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

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.

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.

She had me on the brink of chastity
Addicted to honeyed lips and cinnamon spiced ***.
She had my mind on the brink of loyalty
Enslaved to her body and chained to her commands like the loyal hound curled at her pretty red toes.
She had my body on the brink of chaos
For once I wasn’t able to touch her, I was able to realize how different we truly were, but it bugged me enough to form a need of confirmation through alleged ****** connections.
She had me on the brink of love
No, I never would admit it, but I was hoping with all my heart that she and I would never separate, and I guess that was my mistake.

Maybe I can now be at peace with my decision to leave her alone, but now my body aches from what I was trying to form, a bridge burned on the receiving end and yet I still tried to build with the girl who torched it in the first place.
Oh How Naïve Our Heart Can Make Us

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.

Blood’s on your lips as you stare into my soul.
What is it you see?

You see a victim.
I can see the carnivorous beast in you and the predator gnashing her teeth at her prey, sending the scent of adrenaline through the air and intimating with the fragrance of potential gratification.

But I am helpless as my ears flick like a helpless doe.
You stalk your pray with ***** glances and sweet smiles from across expansions of room, waiting for the perfect moment to lunge in for the ****.
Finding it, you come closer and let me know my vulnerability with only one word.

Hi
And the rest is history
Little did the prey know that he was the hunted. Our bodies twisted and bent in such ways of pleasurous escape that I don’t realize.
I’m trapped.
Nibble on my neck like a predator crushes a windpipe.
Lick your lips like a satisfied wolf and let me know who my ender is.
Spread yourself over me and don’t let me escape, grip me like you’ll never satisfy again.

And then leave.
The predator has been satisfied, the prey left to the vultures.
How can she play with so many souls and feel no remorse? How can she turn such innocence without the slightest thought of disturbance?
One must keep his lust and his love as separate entities, for if you confuse the two, you might become a victim.


Man-eater

The deep is the hole I fall into that has me in submission. The escape I find in the day, that keeps me sane in small doses, but drives me crazy in large ones.
Crazy for you
The deep is you, the only thing I think of half the time. Kissing your legs, ******* your toes, biting playfully on your neck, showing you my love for you and your body. Slowly caressing your curves and gently rubbing on your flesh, exploring you.
But it’s more than ****** love.
You say it’s ***, I say it’s intimacy. You say it’s foreplay, I say infatuation. Yet we’re on two of the same plane.
I poetically break you down like a pro, weakening your resolve and opening you up to options. Making you moister than weather, come with me, we’ll rain together. I’ll show you the pride in my heart and you’ll show me the love that I have needed for so long. I’ll show you my soul and its intentions, but only if you show yours as a consolation to my open and honest ways.
After I leave from a day of tension and anger, can you be there to greet me when I get back to you? Will you kiss me on the lips and welcome me back to the excitement I desire, the flames that I require to heat up my fire again?
You tell me ****** activity is what drives me, but that’s not how I see it. I see it as us bonding in a general way. Not reproductive, not recreational, just us two. But you still don’t believe me, and I don’t know why.
Ask me something about you, what’s your favorite number? !5. Your favorite movie? After-earth. Favorite tv show- shall I go on? Your favorite past time is cuddling up with a kindle and watching old re-runs from years ago. But yet you say I don’t know you?
I’m in too deep, it’s too good to end on a low note, my voice is low enough to carry the tones as low as you need it to go, we’ll get higher near the end, and hopefully I’ll ascend with you. I call you my lover, but you’re much more than that, you’re my counterpart, my other form placed in human. Baby, we’re nearly the same.
And it scares me.
Scares me that when you feed off of your own insecurities, you’re feeding off of mine too. Would you be  a bad parent? did you look good enough at prom? do you think people remember you when you step away? Stop thinking about it, love, come back to me and let’s live in the present like new pets in gift boxes.
I love you, ok, and regardless of how much it freaks you out to hear that word, it’s the truth, and you know it is. Do you feel the same? I don’t know, but I want to find out, before you drag me deeper inside.
The Deep

The brightness of my teeth should show my self-consciousness.
As even with the best I can do, to me they burn.

The size of my shirt should show that I have big places to fill.
As I’m swallowed by the knowledge of future responsibilities.

The way I speak should show my truthfulness.
For If I lie, I can’t do it without stuttering, and I hate how my voice rises when I do it.

The smoothness of my lips should show my inexperience.
As I’ve never kissed before, so they stay soft in an attempt to hush my mind of its fears of never feeling the connection of locking lips.

I’m an easy read like Level-one books, and you know this.
But yet you still look through my soul and criticize me for intentions you know **** well I don’t have.

Brand new night

New lovers every night, their memories strewn about my heart
Like poppy seeds.
Constantly changing in a never- ending rotation cycle of light and dark
Like day and night.
We meet, greet, know, and immediately love. It makes me feel good to have the attention at times.
But I never quite keep it.
Even when I have it, there’s always something wrong.
I leave her for her
But then leave her for another…. And then have that one break up with me.
It makes me feel
Tempered.
Makes me feel like even when I find my counterpart, there’s something that’s missing or holding us in a place where secrets may be common knowledge, but then common knowledges are secreted.
Everyone knew. Friends, parents, and even complete strangers… But the only person who didn’t know was me.
Is this a curse?
I open my heart for yet another, memories strewn over my soul. And once again, I think I know love.
But yet again, I fall short by mere millimeters and crash down back to the reality of my situation.
I’m desperate for a recreation.
I knew love one day, and maybe will one day soon enough
But I’m still on the edge of my mind contemplating who shall victimize my heart again in the toxins of the addictive chemical considered romance on this
Brand New Night.

Thunder’s crack has nothing on the noise of a wailing heart; a wailing heart is louder.
I know you.
You are vulnerability
If you are the sky, I am the grey that clouds you. I am a two part nightmare of anger and frustration, closer to the heart and far more contemplated than love.
Do you know me?
I am a double dose of bad weather, one strike of my blade causes sparks to appear, and the downpour of my tears causes drought to cease and oceans to overflow with tasteless, clear nectar known as my emotional essence.
I am trouble
Do you know me?
I am as false as silicon ******* but with an intention so real as to throw my mind into limbo. True intent meets darkened heart, I am as bad as a lover.
Do you know what it’s like to kiss someone’s lips over and over again, but wish it was someone else instead?
Do you know what its like to build an intimacy with someone on the basis of a “practice” for someone else?
I do
And the attention I give that thought is enough to spoil children. I am a lost cause, but a just one in all respects. I am a forbidden detail. But one as pivotal as the next.
I am confusion.
Do you know me?

I am love, I am hate, I am future, I am fate.
I am all things that form under a summer’s night: hot sticky reality being shoved into the face of those that believe themselves exempt from it.
I am what light shines on and where trees grow, I am the nature that makes life possible and what makes society go.
I am a shark to those who bleed their prey, and a dove to those who accept my nature. I am a kiss to those who need one, and a fist for those who deserve one
I am Human- the biggest mystery of them all.

An association of two souls that makes them feel less vulnerable to the outside world. It's a different type of commitment to musiq soulchild, but some take it further.
Will you ever marry a buddy? Depends on who she is, what her motives are, and what yours are.
think hard, who is your real buddy? What do they want? Are they worthy to be yours? Are you worthy to be theirs?

To us, it is a legend of love
To us, its arrow is mystical

But in truth, he has no magic bow
It's just the thought of the arrows that makes you think that.

My head clouds with old memories that I can’t shake. I can’t express, but expression still shows.
What is it that’s making my head flow the way it is? It’s stinging me to the point of aching my heart. The past is crowding me now and I can’t escape the initial feelings of hurt that I placed on myself. I’m aching in every way, burning in every heat, and crying in every tissue.
There was love in the poet, now there is none.
There was life in this being, now he is empty. What’s the matter with me? What’s happening to my heart?
There’s a rising power in my body in the form of emotion. I can’t control it, but I can draw from it like energy. It’s Built so high that nothing will stop its escape but escape itself.
But I can’t let it out.
I can’t let an entity become my reality. I deserve to be free of this emotion and be an open book for somebody who shall fill my pages with love and trust.
I deserve redemption and deserve the prosperity that comes with it.
But I don’t have it.
So I must stay content with myself, poem after poem of false emotion. Day after day of fake feelings. Hour after hour of missing love. And now the lonely has returned.
Stronger than it ever was before. I can see it every time I close my eyes. I miss the past, so I live in it. It’s true, my past is my reality, my future is omnipresent.
I am a weeping willow in the middle of the botanical garden, sad, life-drained, sick looking. But I am just as beautiful as any other plant in the garden, in fact, maybe more so. But I just want a heart who wants mine. Please, god, stop this maddening emptiness in me. I feel like clawing out the sockets in the walls as the rain breaks the roof and pours onto my raging body.
The thirst has returned. That feeling of needing something so much that it seems essential. I am starved of lust and lacking the healthy love that comes with it.
I need Love.

Oh, how I long to taste your lips, how I wish to hold your hand.
How I long to do something crazy, maybe **** I don’t understand.

**** and sensuous, freezing me solid.
My mind has been replaced with an insatiable lust for you. It’s gripping me roughly like I grip you.
My hands no longer caress your hips, instead they grip them generously and pull you closer. Head spinning, from smooches to kisses, we become more intimate with each lean in.
Then comes the things none shall tell.
Maybe soon bodies will be entwined, maybe one day moans shall escape. But on such a day, my mind will escape me. I will be operated not by love
But purely lust for our sensuality

Honey droplets form at the edge of somber eyes
Tears I long to leaf away.
She is angry, same as always
Because her love has gone astray.
But what she doesn’t know is that love don’t go,
It simply fades and appears.
Yet she can’t see when she looks at me
That I can erase her fears.

You must not love a poet.

A poem is the formation of love in written form, even when chanting or venting or raving.
A poet is a being of emotion whose outlet they’re constantly craving.
You over-look me simply because you see that I am volcanic as lust
And you know that for my love/lava flow, I can turn a heart to dust.

But I still lust you.

A trigger of feeling, a headache of horror, we are one and we are the same
A body for ***, a mind for intimacy, being of love and beings of shame.
Heated in chill and frozen in warmth, we are lust, ***, and passion.
Thus I offer you as a poet, here, I give you my attraction.

Honey droplets form at the edge of somber eyes
Tears I long to leaf away.
She is angry, same as always
Because her love has gone astray.

Tiny tastes of skin produce many a flavor of salt
But of all the things I taste
Your skin tastes most delicious
And I am obsessed with that flavor

shyness is a sword's sheath
the thing that covers up all of the intent and all of the actuality of an individual.
I am shy
but not because I'm hiding motives
but rather because it's the only way of explaining myself to people.

She explained it to me, told me all that she could about it and how she hated it.
Tears were in her eyes as she explained the pain she felt from the heartbreaking.
Her nose nearly ran and she sniffled as she cried in my arms, nuzzled under my chin, her shaking form nearly as cold as ice.
Her heart was once her own, her love was once brought only to the those who she deemed worthy, but that one person, that one human, made her empirical mind crash to the ground, ****** on by the rains of gloating hypocrisy. She is a shell and a mind of active saddened anger.
But she always forgets
that I know it better than she does

My dream is not distorted, but I do not see your sin
My eyes must be blinded by the position you’re in.
You’re my dream girl for life, I’m crazy for you like I’m crazy for love.
You toy with my mind so amazingly that I know it must be love.

You are an attempt for me to find knowledge of self through someone else’s efforts. I know your name as being synonymous with mine. We are a life our own, a chilling realization of how easily we fell.
Or tripped.
Do you see the same emotion through your eyes, or is this one-sided? Please let me know. Because I’m in love, I’m in lust.
I’m in heaven.
So show me that my heaven isn’t a mere mirage

Dream Girl

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

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.

Cinnamini cocoa goddess with a chocolate friend so dark as to tint the soul and leave me salivating as my sweet tooth acts improperly. I’ve been snagged, giving smiles and yet my eyes betray me, they show my interest clearer than the highest definition.
She’s got me tripping on my own feet as I try to walk confidently toward her, holding the air like rails as if I were a wobbling infant talking the first steps of my life.
Step one, I stride up to you in a way that sends chills down your spine, shivering your body when I touch your arms and slide up, my fingers making it up the triceps and easing onto your shoulder. Step two, kiss you and make you see how much I’m in love with you.
But step three?
What step three? Usually by this time I snap back to reality realizing that you’re still in front of me, body burning the air’s nitrogen around thee. So savage a **** yet so classy a manner, I tingle in my lust of you.
I just want to be known to you, I want you to see me as a being that is close to you, intimately, physically, whatever’s accepted by you. Can I do that? Can I be accepted by you as maybe a friend or more? It’s a possibility that any ad everything can go wrong, but **** the odds, we are in ourselves against the definition of odd, awkward beings that need each other lest they go crazy from neglect and withdrawal.
I speak in intonation when around you, the rise in my voice is for every time your eyes connect to mine, yet the fall is for all the moments that I can’t see you, three desks away and yet it feels like an entire galaxy of space between our adjacent seats. But there isn’t anything I can do to control my urge for your assiduity. Call me greedy, as I feed on your attention like a moth feeds on fine linen.
And I’m hungry for nothing more than you, no one other than you, call me critical, but I can’t savor anyone but your flavor. Your taste, as distinct as it is, is still a one of a kind, and I am addicted to the one of a kind flavor.

Tonight.
Where the hell am I?
what's going on?
I can't tell anymore. I feel like I'm in the middle of a spiraling atmosphere. I sink into the couch like a black hole and stick there, smiling at passersby as they look at me and smile in confusion and disconnect of my thoughts
Smile no more, I'm uninterested in petty conversation, don't feel like cutely arguing with the brunette by the grandfather clock, spilling whatever's in her cup on her bra, forcing looks from perverse passersby. I'd rather be chilling on the computer typing a poem in the middle of the dark in a room with no furniture and listening to music that I can't relate to.
Smiling at the crowd as my spirit warms enough to politely leave, I stand up and blink. Immediately, the vision of the crowd disperses, I see nothing but the light emitting from the laptop on the floor. I look around, blinking more.
Where did they go?
Where am I?
I'm back to the start, back in my unfurnished room, alone in the dark as the street lights shine in through the cracked blinds. I shake my head in realization. It was a mirage, nothing happened, all of my insistence on leaving was for an event that never happened.
I shrink to the floor and lie down,hand on my head in frustration. I want the scene, I want to want to leave from somewhere rather than not be anywhere. So I pick up the laptop and tap a few keys, sending me to lover's land as I effortlessly type more and more of stories long forgotten. I wish It would stop, wish I could stop loathing in self-withdrawal and become more than I feel.
**** these visions, **** these thoughts, let me slip past them and get comfortable, let go of my mind and allow me to become less concerned, let me be lonely in mind again.
Leave.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

a distant memory is considered irrelevant, yet all a thought is is a formulating memory.
That's what I call this, a memory and the making, as you are you and I am I, I'd want to remember you for the long run, and keep you close to my soul

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.

There are so many ways I want you, so many ways I lust you
Yet there are so many reasons of why it is I can not claim to love you.
My eager reluctance keeps me from claiming love.

White rose petals litter the floor around me
Moving so slowly like ripples in the ocean
A body lay in the middle of the tide
Thick and dark like chocolate against the white petals
Open for a love I desire to give.
I lie down and grip at the hips, tugging it towards me,
Quickly adjusting my form to fit
And we lock eyes.
Thus is the feeling of love I had been wishing
Thus is the feeling I lust when we’re kissing.

But when our lips lock, our loves don’t, I feel we are two souls forced into an intertwine.
I lust you, oh how I lust you, but that lust is perpetually sans its love.

Conscience-confusing creature of contemplation, your body is driving me mad.
Lover without love, you are my sweetheart, but you remind me of love we never had.

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.

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.

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