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.

Fresher than the sky after a rainy day, us was found strongly subdued in intrigue and properly shawled in ****.
Higher than hippies can ever attain yet the ocean envies our deepness, back breaking as if our love were a tile floor that doubled as a bed at night, yet we are still comfortable. Still striving for the placement next to the historics and enjoying the wait, the ascent toward remembrance and the ascent from stupidity as we learn each other like Spanish class.
Let me know you, let me feel your energy. Why? Well, why not? I'm an alienated settler, so I suppose I need closeness? Or better yet,
I need you.
Why are you looking around? Move the stranger in front of you so that you can see my finger pointing at you. Yes, you, I need you. I'm interested, curvy swaying hips that deserve my caress, **** luscious lips that deserve my attention, she's a love-starved apparition that's deserving of the meal that I feel I can provide.
We are instruments, feel the beat of my drum, ba-da-da-dum-di-dum-di-dum, the sound my heart makes when you talk to me. The sound I hear when I know I'm ****** to make a fool or myself in front of you. My love, we are satire beings, embodying principles that we formed in a sheepish state when our fantasies were formed and our dreamy hopes became lost wishes.
I thought I knew love, but I didn’t know you, so what I knew was the fact that truth and lie could be twins at times. Right and wrong could be cousins.

There’s a satellite touching my head as I think about you, I’m higher than the atmosphere can catch.
I can see your hips moving, almost swishing as you walk away from me, head in the clouds even then. I can feel the heat of your kiss as caress the small of your back, showing my intimacy with you as music plays in the background of this milieu, us dancing in unison, slowly moving from side to side, hand in hand and minds on one thing…
Love.
More specific, our love. We love like that was all we could make, we held hands like if we didn’t they would fall, kissed like if we hadn’t, then our health would deteriorate. We became the other and the other became we. We became us, your became our.
We were one once more. How chill and mellow we were. Our love beat at a tempo that only our hearts could follow, our emotion a symphony all its own.
Maybe you, like Maxwell. I’m in love like T-pain, influenced by all that is around me and even more so by those hidden from me. I call it love, but really, all I knew was that I didn’t lust you, I felt more than one emotion. I was tired of you, intrigued by you, enjoyed you, loved you and wanted you. I felt you to be the one. I wanted you to be my favor to myself, I wanted you to sweep me away in reminiscence and happiness that would ensue from it.
I wanted your love.
If I may ask, can I have it? Can I love you? Can you love me? I know it seems foreign to you, but it’s just as foreign to me, yet I can distinguish it from other emotions that I’m feeling. I feel a difference with you, you are a difference, and I am truly intrigued now.
I’ve never had a love as sweet as yours, never had someone as close as you later did. But now I’ll never forget it. I can’t stop with my reminiscing of what it was, what it should’ve been.
What I feel is an amazing issue, what I want to feel is a completely different factor. But what I want is for you to give it to me.
Your heart is my pillow, my heart is your bed. I am an open book love, and I pray you browse my pages.

I have an emotion of desperation at the moment, missing love and desiring it but at the same time rejecting it and wishing it not exist around me, a conflict within myself like a caterpillar in its cage of a cocoon.
And I must get out.
I feel held back by strong intangible arms that are relentlessly squeezing the life out of me. Oh, help me god. But Its roper around my neck isn’t dropping me, rather dangling me with enough life to torture me with the feeling of emptiness, a feeling of no love gained yet none to be lost in the first place. Ironically, I can’t die from the misery and can’t escape long enough for my blinks to bring me back to the hopes of an alternative reality.
Every girl I pass by has a feeling of gymniphoria, but for what? I couldn’t imagine even if I wanted to, and yet it’s merely an attempt of my soul to gather the remainder of my dignity and ****** it toward my brain in a way to flaunt it enough for me to feel it sink into my brain that I am strong enough to fight the feelings and live past it so that I can thrive once again on my former levels.
But I can’t get on this level like Kevin Gates, I had to work down and back up but down once more, and here I saunter godforsaken. My voice in a constant crescendo as I yell to the heavens for their attention once more. Hear my ******* pleas, hear the small voice as it raises and sends mountains into a judder as my wounded roar reaches its ****** and shouts passed heaven directly into the space inhabited by my thoughts.

I never truly loved you.
My love, you were my eye candy.
You were my dum-dum
My sucker
And I only kept you around because you looked great on my shoulder.

eyes are the first thing I notice when I look at you, but that's not all I look at.

From your beatifully tamed strands of black hair, to the bottoms of your sneakers. However, your eyes are what captivate me the way they do.

Beautifully dark brown, round as diameter, staring through my soul the way they stare at open books dedicated to you, the novels of poetry made in your honor even before you were born.

Eyes

the cells that my heart is chained in.

Your eyes

the attention grabbing, free roaming palace where I intend to stay. Swimming in your eyes as if around a pool, and you know I stare, because you always look back.

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

A special decision as if she’s being pondered. She’s a wonderful surprise to one who is scheduled.  
And she’s special to me.
I love her, Yes, I truly do. But I’m afraid she won’t feel the same. I’m afraid she’d deny me because of something else, or perhaps I’m inadequate like microwave meals. But the thought of me being so inadequate forces me to try to improve for some unseen reality.
What is my reality, though? I’m afeared of what I don’t understand, and yet, I don’t understand her and I’m so intrigued. What is it that’s happening in my brain? Is it that I’ve figured her subconsciously and can’t access it consciously without thinking of harder questions.
Can I call this Irony or can I call it fear? Can I call it infatuation or love or maybe even intrigue?
Or can I call it ridiculous and call it a day?
Figurative thought.

I can keep it real when I need to.
So she always knows the deal.
I never complain of my body, but should work on my *** appeal.

I’m glad she was patient with me, but the quickie stated impatience.
Hands full of body and nose full of fragrance.

She was my reluctant first

I was too anxious to just enjoy and now it’s got me marked.
Now we speak and she jokes, but somehow I don’t feel dark.
They say that nothing is common knowledge, but I feel I can learn all.
Given another chance, I’ll give my best at what I find as an actual fall.

But until then, I still think of those few moments
Immersed in love and something wetter
I think about what I did and what I can do
And all the ways that next time I’ll show her better.

In truth, I am a Wildman swinging an ax. Where was the tree when I was burying my weapon into the helpless?
Why am I still in a hush over the things I shouldn’t even be thinking about? Why do I call myself a poet and why is it that the kind of poems I do are about something that I’ve barely felt.
It’s Ironic, isn’t it?
My soul dries up as people soak each other in liquid love. My heart burns as people kiss around me. I don’t feel jealousy, just a longing.
A longing for that taste that I used to know.
A longing for the cuisine of love and all its benefits.
For even though I only had a taste of something I considered basic
I still hunger for what I had.
I still hunger for that flavor

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

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

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.

Heartache Of Rescue

I save so many souls on a daily that I forget about my own.
But I’m sick of saving hearts.
Only time can tell how long it is before the knight in shining armor is saved by a princess.
And maybe on that day, my heart will be spared as a token of gratitude
Rather than a practice for abusers.

Gasoline lies drip to the ground with each part of your lips
Drenching my heart in the foul odor of deception.
My own anger at you is the match
Struck with each false tale.

Bloated with the taste of sickening liquid lies, my heart catches aflame.
And I burn my anguish away.

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?

Yet again I sit on the cold floor, in the dark
And I fill my head in darkness.

But I’m at peace with the loneliness.
In fact it fuels me, gassing me like cars before a long journey into the abyss of loneliness.

And I think it’s time I hit the road.

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

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.

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.

Insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results, right? So what should I call it if I do this one more time and get the different answers? Someone forgot to factor in the unpredictability rate of females.
But I didn't.
I recognize how you do, what you do, so please don't underestimate the things done to or by any of us.
We are the angels of heaven, the gods of rome, the royals of England. Shall I go on? It seems needless if you get the points I'm making.
SO to start off, how are you today? Sure, I see you everyday, but that's the point. I wanna give you your deserved space, so when I stay at my table as you walk passed, don't think I'm ignoring you, I'm just trying to give you the space you are due, for I want to preserve this romance like strawberries in the winter.We
are what you seek, but I believe you seek more. WHat is it? Please, be straight with me, my heart cannot bare another user nor another usery. DO you see what I see when we lock eyes in class? Do you understand the concept of MY love? For my love, regardless of long or short, is different in comparison.
I know I've spit this before, I know you're tired of the same words to describe a different game. This isn't me anymore, it's us. This isn't courtship anymore, it's love. Actual love, I've never felt it before, never had it's taste on my tongue nor it's thought in my head.
But you've put it there. The chance for a real relationship!!! Am I really ready? Are you? then get ready, get set, let's go!!!!!!! The race is on, now I realize what the true effect you have on me is.
Now I can tell you how much I love you and how much I care for you, even if it's just a telepathic wish, you will feel the presence of it in  your forethought.
You make me want to overdose on love music, chillin on the bed in complete darkness, just marinating on the words and anylising there meanings, yes you, my heart and soul, sold to me by an unlikely vender, your soul.
So we traded, bartered actually. your heart for mine, a likely trade. But what are the expected drawbacks? No, I'm no skeptic, but I am real, so what are the real intentions of so magnificent a spirit?
I will be yours, for you are mine, but don't hurt me, please. I stay on my knees in prayer of an unbroken heart, yet so often it is. Alas, you are the one, so will my heart be safe? So often I asked that, so often it was answered with the same words, same attitude, yet at first chance they pulverised me as if I were a stone on a stone crusher, so all I ask is for you not to do that to me, my love.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, it's all on me. Why try to fool me again? My heart's already withering...

If she lies once more about where she was, I swear I might hit her.
She’s playing with my emotion, a force she’s never extracted from me before.
And It bothers me.

If she lies about why she smells like cologne again, I might get on my knees and cry.
She knows my delicacy, yet she still is determined to melt my silicon soul.

Jilted presence, ever-present guilt in her eyes, I can taste the sweat of betrayal on her cheeks.
She has broken my spirit and my longing for love.

If she breaks me one more time, I just might leave…. But I always come back. She has become my only reality, the only thing I’ve really claimed to love. And I’ve given her so much power that now
I need her

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.

A thought crossed my mind last night.
What if I loved you?
What if we actually became intimate? What if our little flirts developed into something more like those that I know. What if we became more than casual passes in the hallways? What if we became closer than whatever we are now?
Would you be cool with that?
A question came to my head yesterday.
Why am I searching for a phantom?
Why is it that I look unknowingly for a love that I could give an honest **** about? How is it that I’m stuck in the past looking for something to fill that which I only had a taste of? How is it that even under the pressures of life I still have enough space in my schedule to stress over love?
Do you know what love is? Because I wouldn’t mind teaching you.
Would you be cool with that?
What if we gave each other our minds, what if we developed into something that even we had no clue about?
Would you be cool with that?
In this dark world, would you be cool with me holding your hand and leading the way? Would you be ok with showing an interest in a forsaken soul who shows an interest in you?
Would you be ok with speaking in private and kissing in public? Would you accept my invitation to entwine fingers and chat the world away?
Or Am I Just Dreaming?

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.

Is it true that nowadays the value of a man is in how many women he ***** on a daily basis?
Is it true that nerdy is only good when it’s a vulnerable female rather than a young boy trying to actually get somewhere in his life?
Is it true that women consider themselves ******* and that being a “lady” is simply for the old or stuck up hoes?
Excuse my vulgarity.
Is it true that if I were to back into, *******, and ******* on you, you wouldn’t mind? Hell, it’s a dance, relax.
Is it true that if I were to come to you as a true gentleman, opening doors and kissing on your hand rather than trying to **** your face off in the first 15 minutes, you’ll deny me, not because I’m not a good guy, but because that style is dead?
Is it just me, or am I holding on to a time of the dead? Is it just me or are we in a time of complete confusion?
Is it true that If I were to show you intimacy and go deeper to showing feelings of actual love, you’d simply consider me a boyfriend and not actually a counterpart?
Where did it go? What happened to the times when a love was formed and built rather than packaged and given easily? What happened to the times when you’d say “girlfriend” and think of love and consideration rather than just the title itself? What happened to actually loving your counterpart as apposed to simply having them around you?

Jay

I know a mind that heats up hotter than the sun and a body that can become a brick
I love her dearly, but in truth, I think her head is a bit thick.
She’s an adventurous soul with a warm heart and a mind that’s faster than the draw
A perfect being and sure sweetheart, she has no single flaw.

The party wherever she is and personality unmatched in all,
she’s a singular creature of complexity
A compilation of personalities yet one of her own,
a chameleon with surprising dexterity

The embodiment of physical beauty,
When she walks by, people notice
Needless to say, I would be extremely guilty
If I didn’t let her know this.

A crush is a crush, and a love is a love
But a friendship is something much more.
A wish is a wish, and to miss is to miss
But there’s so much that the both of us haven’t explored.

I know a mind that heats up hotter than the sun
In the body of a wild child
And I know someone who I won’t forget
Because she’s always making me smile

Jaylene

Kiss after sensual kiss leads to what I would find as an inevitably ****** placement between us, that avenue of lust which we mutually entered once we were on the same level of thinking.
I lean into you, inhaling the intimacy second after second from your tasty lips, biting your lip and running my fingers through your hair as my hands ease slowly down to your neck, caressing you and easing down farther and farther until I'm caressing a breast.
Call me crazy, but I think I'm in love, or at least its unmistakably destructive premonition. Lifting your shirt and kissing on flesh, making your toes curl under overwhelming chills being sent from your abdomen.
Easing back up to you, I can see your eyes, I catch them and keep them in place, letting you know full well that I intend to enjoy you fully.
And you let me.
Easing down and absorbing your figure, kissing and tracing down your belly and easing into a certain heaven before coming back up and stripping you down gently, making you smile at the gentlemanly figure that you call yours.
Can I love you down? lying you down fully extended, can I get onto you as if we could share the same space against scientific belief?
I ease into you slowly, only speeding in a way as to show my own urgency isn't priority.
And we make one. easing into your form, our bodies become entwined, become one at last.
suppressing your pleasurous scream with my own warm kisses, I allow us to combine again and again, and become one once more as our nerves and hormones take over in this ritualistic connection.
Made love? we make emotion. Stripped bare and enjoying the ****** pleasures given us, ****** after ******, kiss after juicy kiss and scream after luscious, pleasured filled scream until we finally reach what I like to call climactic end and level up in our relationship. At last, though we are still levels away from the final intimacy, we are closer than we have been before, and the closer we get, the deeper and more sensual our encounters are.

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.

Baby girl, if there’s one thing I would tell you right now, it’s that you truly drive me crazy.
Don’t get it confused, I was always crazy, but you drive me more so. You push me past the levels of my normal mind and force my creativity. You open my vocal chords unexpectedly and take on information as if you were the processing unit of a computer.
I feel I can tell you anything and everything and you wouldn’t judge.
I feel like I can do nearly anything and you won’t keep a grudge.
But, who knows, maybe I’m wrong. Could it be that you’ve got ya boy kickin’ the back of his heels with the tips of his toes? Could it be you’ve got a brotha blockin’ thoughts of thots that you think he’s got?
You said I had too many crushes, said that that was a problem. But you also admitted to having crushes even though you were taken. How Ironic.
But you also said you were pained in your past, and you said you were interested in the intimacy of someone who could provide it.
Well, I can’t make any promises, but I can at least try.
I was a rusty spirit before I met you, and, no lie, baby girl, you’ve destroyed that layer of rust and brought the poet back.
Unknowingly, you gave me an inspiration.
So I can’t wait to talk to you, can’t wait to hear that pretty voice with the southern accent, or see those pretty eyes brightened with an eternal flame that not even your past trials could extinguish.
Can’t wait to be with you again.

Love letter 22

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.

Take me to the place where lovers play.
Where the word love is on the tongue of each person who passes by and the jitters of emotion break us down and build us as twin towers of faith and infatuation.
Roll me down a river of finality, telling me sweet things in order to keep me close to you with little lies that make me love you.
Show me the tip of time and take me past it. Let me now that I’m a possibility for forever and that I’m forever going to be close to you. Show me that I’m wanted, that I’m needed, and you don’t want to change that.
Kiss my lips with sincerity and whisper your thanks to the lord into my ear with a seductive air. Because your voice is so beautiful and your lips so sweet that you take me back to times when we first courted, times when the deepness of our love was judged on how many tics the clock made when the phones were on.
Take me to the most sensible form of tenderness and let me teach you how to surpass it. For the threat of love is my only danger, and I remedy the fears pragmatically.
Is it ok to admit I’m in love? Tell me now, because I’ve been burned before. I’ve had the knives of deceit stab my heart before, and I didn’t like it. So Let me know how far our love can go before I need to jump ship.
Tingle my soul and make me shiver with the electricity generated by your feminine touch. You always start the wonder every time our skins connect.
Take me on a journey that sends me into Neverland with you by my side. I could care less where we go, so long as we are together, it won’t register which direction I’m walking in. show me that pretty smile and tell me it won’t matter to you either. Take my hands and lean in close to me, catch a breath and let it out slow just staring in my eyes.
And I will know where to take us.
You take me to the place where lovers play.
The little bit of space where time doesn’t agree with its surroundings, the place where we could stay an eternity just thinking about how we could spend our time together.
Lover’s land.

Our bodies pressed together as we danced the invisible square in the middle of the school hallway. Moving from side to side as the piano's melody infiltrated our ears through the headphones. We swayed slowly, softly, keeping with the pace of slow-quick-quick that was required for the box step. Her arms were around my shoulders, my arms rested on her hips as we swung slowly, softly, going about the hall as if it were a grand ballroom and us its only occupants. I looked her in the eyes, the emotion on my sleeves that were hugging her hips. She looked back, smiling as if she were enjoying herself as much as I was. I couldn't help it, I had to whisper to her, had to break the trance the music had put on us, but had to in such a way that the moment would be filled with no regret, filled with the trueness I had kept in my heart.
"I love you." I say, smiling as if I had no clue of how ugly my smile were, smiling as if I were happy with more than just my grades. Her eyes glistened against the shine of the over-head lights. She smiled her beautiful smile and took me into a euphoria that was so blissful that I imagined I felt heat rising to my face in a blush.
"I love you too."
And with those words spoken, she leans closer, arms running down the broad of my back and hooking there as she lay her head on my chest and slowly rock with me, easing from left to right, slowly making our way in a giant circle in the middle of the hallway. I knew this was it, I knew this was what I had been looking for: a feeling of love to replace the feelings of longing in my heart, the feelings of lonely in my soul.
Left, right, left, right. We swayed in unison, her hips matching mine as our circle broadened with the music of the piano. I kissed her forehead, prompting her to look up at me as if we were sending mutual signals. I lean into her, hands lightly swishing her hips a little further, pushing against her own momentum, and kiss her tender lips like I had never kissed before. This was what her love had done, this is what my longing had done, we were one in the same in a world that only matched stride with cheetahs. We were the difference, we were the exception to the world as we softly went about the hall rocking and rocking, lips matching and not mismatching for long periods of time.
And then the bell rang, stating that it was time to go to class. But we paid it no attention, we stayed where we would remain for only mere seconds before the herd of students could overtake us. She drops the earbud and grabs my hand.
"Please, for me, remember this moment. Remember the moment when two unlikely souls set each other free, the moment when the heavens looked at the both of us with favor and brought us a match in emotion." tears escaped her eyes.
"though it may be my last time seeing you like this, I shall always be here in spirit," She continues, "but don't hasten to bid me farewell, love. Please, take the punishments of this tardy and stay and dance with me. Just sway." and with that, I continue our sway, placing my hands back on the sides of her hips as the students walk around us.
And we swish, hips moving as we make our own music with our foot-falls, matching a rhythm that we both find pleasurous. Rocking and rocking, swaying and swishing. I lean toward her once more, bidding her farewell with just one last kiss. Closing my eyes as our lips connect, right hand coming from her hip to stroke her cheek.
But when I open my eyes, she's no longer there. I'm alone in a hallway as my schoolmates pass around me, strange looks shown evident in each face that passes. The second bell rings and I open the door to class just in time, tears escaping as I look around the room at those who could never understand what I had felt.
A love that was lost isn't a blessing in comparison to the feeling of never being loved, in fact, it is a curse. So I have always remembered my beautiful hummingbird as she was, a free spirit and a free soul, but a part of me that I can never retrieve again.
Is brea liom tu, forever and always.

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

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

Sugar is sweet by itself, but even more so when mixed with flavors.
She is the flavor, one I’ve never savored before, one that’s intriguing to me to a point of shear attracted interest, and I believe she knows it. She can hear the interest, can feel the heat of my words, and I feel hers as well.
Heavy conversation? I think not, It’s a natural for us both, whether or not we realize. For we are both expressers, both professing emotion like analysts.
Poets
The Irony of it is that she’s better, but I don’t mind, we are after all different professions of the same thing.
Sweet like syrup, shy like mockingbirds, hesitant as kittens, flow like the winds that blow the currents of the ocean, and as vibrant as a child high on fructose.
Feminine intuition should tell her she’s entering dangerously close territory, but she powers on through it regardless, perhaps with ruby red blushed cheeks, perhaps with a whole-hearted smile, perhaps not. But she has taken it, she has taken my eyes off of the situations, the standards, and placed them squarely on  her.
I haven’t felt the buzz in a long time, haven’t felt the attraction in mere moments, yet they have both been reawakened by her.  What’s going on in my head? Is there something that I’m missing? Indeed, It’s her.
A poet in every sense of the word, and a beautiful fortune more so. Her name is synonymous with soul, her eyes are only described as deepening pools of eternity, smile described as Insta-ready, but is that all? Whoever mentioned it was unjust to her. For her smile speaks more than she. It tells of trial and error, love and lost and perhaps more.
She has lost much, but what she has lost shall be regained somehow, and I pray I’m around to see her dreams be achieved singlehandedly by her,  girl wonder. Taken more stress than the human body should bare and still walking through the hell with clenched fists and a strong gait.
I can feel her presence, sense her sadnesses, why cry? No need for tears of sorrow for you one day, no need for fears or upsetments. I know she knows who she is, and I hope these words touch her, for nothing else shall harm her, nothing shall infiltrate her innocence and take advantage, not with the help of my will and strength, and I give it to her now for her well-being and protection.
I don’t know her as much as I’d like, but perhaps I might, perhaps I might understand her complexities for good and allow them to stick close to me in whatever form of intimatic energy we find, whether friendly or deeper.
A speaker is simply an amplifier for sounds, a stronger voice for a weaker one.  I have been told that I’m the speaker, the strong voice in a world of weak voices, but I don’t see how. She is her own speaker, her own voice may rise louder and stronger than many that have been tried before her, and yet she still hurts. If I could, I’d take the pains away, protect her from what I believe is hurting her. But what if It’s not what I think? What if I’m merely protecting her from what I figured was hurting her and it wasn’t. What if I only end up messing up again? It’s not my intention to ruin the rose by picking it, but to let it linger in the **** patch would allow it to disappear from me.

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

Naivety
I put you on the back-burner one too many times, and that has influenced me in the present day. I still think about it, about us, though the intimacy I was building for you is long gone due to the busyness of my current schedule.
I can’t reminisce like I used to and can’t afford to live in the past anymore. My life has moved to a carpe-diem pace and I’ve become one of those that I had dreaded to become.
A normal.
How naïve of me to be so trusting of things I knew I couldn’t control.
How Naïve of me to believe that my decisions, all made on spur the moment emotion, would lead me in the right direction as oppose to just the direction I was facing. I’m a sucker for it now, learning languages just to express my love in a different tongue, learning dances to woo you into my arms, creating the flirtation I used to have so that I could chat us into a truce, oh, how Naïve I find myself now.
Truth is, the past still haunts me, but my ghosts are mere shadows of me, I’m not effected. I’m hunted by my formers, but I’m a tough quarry, I ***** with anything that seems to be changeable, making me a prime target of changeless society.
Naivety
What I found myself to be when I daydreamed of kissing you, our lips touching and sending tingles to my brain, sending what I would know as one step closer to the final intimacy. But now that step has been postponed, the staircase to heaven out for repair, and I’m stuck in a purgatory of my own creation, one filled with Irony and shame of idiotic past.
Naivety
What I think when I hear someone’s prayers for a soulmate, they don’t work, they just hope, and that’s unjust. Yet it be just my luck they find theirs while I stay here, sinking me deeper into my apathetic and pathetic state of being.
Naivety
The thought that runs through my mind when I think of what I’d ask you now-
Who were we?
Were we even an us, love? Because though it felt real, it was merely a half in a love that required one-fourth.
What were we?
Were we truly lovers? Sure, I loved you, but I never got to say it, never got to express it fully, and that causes an emptiness to echo in my heart. I find it as a settled score: My emptied heart in exchange for your torn and broken one.
Where were we?
Don’t be confused, baby, was your love in the past with another, or were you in the present, thinking of me, smelling my cologne as we cuddled in public, holding hands for the first time, making a display for gawking passersby that we knew? I still chuckle at that to this day, the faces peering over us as we walked, hand in hand, toward a destination to close. But I was too timid and I hadn’t opened up all that much, you were unknowingly initiating me in gradual changes that only you could’ve unlocked in me.
Can I say this to the future? My past made my future, yet my future will eventually become my past. My present isn’t the gift that I desired, but it’s a gift that I cherish regardless. It is my circumstance and my own personal Irony. And so I love it as I love you- the one with the bright smile and dark skin, the one with the chuckle but the sealed lips, the one with the shrug of shoulders but who herself wouldn’t say a word in compromise.
Naivety

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.

I'm ****** like sensuazonia, yet a moral in my own right. Well, to be honest, I don't feel like it. i feel like I'm empty inside, growing more and more so each day. But why? Is there some kind of escape route? Is there some way that I can get away from it? It's consuming my soul at such a rapid pace that even my sprinting soul can't escape like marathon, I must endure like a prisoner of war until my savior arrives, but I don't feel like I have salvation imminent, I feel like I've been stuck in the box so long that I've become it, and now removing that bond with my captivity is harder to break as I rip the cardboard from around me and break the flimsy ***** that keep me pinned in this location for the longest. Where the heck should I go? What the hell should I do? You see, this is what arrives in my mind each time I start my breathing at its regular pace. But then again, what else is there to think about? I could think about the past, but where would that get me? Where would I possible be able to traverse that I haven't traversed when I was experiencing it as present. I miss the past and its people... it's past me, the me that though unwhole, was content with what, and who, he had. I'm alone in the world that I created, how's that for Irony? I can feel the pressure of those wishing to detach me from my reality, their arms reach far, wrapping around my waist in an embrace meant for lovers, but pulling so savagely that I'm forced to do naught but succumb. Hell no, I have to fight, that's who and what I am, but alas, My vent ends now. Brain running drier that the desert's air, dustier than the abyss known as desert sands. I feel empty and now with my words gone, the feeling is even worse.
No stanza

If I died today, tell me, who would care? As far as I can see, I’m not so special.
If I were to claim love for a person, who would accept it? And thus I stay crowded by thoughts of regrets in everything I do.
If I were to disappear tonight? Who would notice? Would I just be another milk carton mystery story, or would I actually have somebody desperate to find me other than obligated family?
When I say I care for a person, tell me, will they care back? Will I have their attention like they have mine or will it be another one-sided relationship?
When I get injured on a sharp edge, knife or otherwise, who will put a bandage on me and giggle at my clumsiness? Who would be concerned at all?
In my desperation to find my counterpart, I’ve missed many an opportunity with many a nice girl. Why? Why did I play with their hearts the same way mine was before? Why destroy a good soul?
In my desperation for attention, I’ve sliced through many an attention-needing associate, many a person more deserving of it than me. And for that, I’m truly sorry.
If I apologize for a sin, who would acknowledge it? Who would even notice the way I feel or the guilt on my face?
No one that I can see.