Things might start off slowly
But we've mastered the art of losing control
The act alone takes the reins
As our bodies fall into each other
This was more than just passion
I never knew what true ecstasy was
Until I found it with you
You make my body tremble
With even the slightest touch
But when it becomes rougher and harder
I understand what it is like
For two souls to come together as one
Guided by the hands of pure intimacy

its 2am and i don’t know if I’m drunk
but the green light in my room keeps
showing me your face
and I’ve never even held a liquor in my hand
which makes me realize that you've held it all the time
and made me drink it till it ran out

I gathered the ladders
One after another I strung them together
Planted their base
Like a bed of wooden flowers
And set them up towards the heavens
Till the top pierced
The white billowy clouds
And when I got to the top
The clouds didn’t stop
They went on like
A white winter wasteland
But I never found the place
Where the human race
Settles after they die

I miss your smiles,
I miss how you curled up in my arms.
I miss how the sound of your laugh,
I miss how you are so tough.
I miss the way you comb your hair,
I miss the way your eyes stare.
I miss how you crack green jokes,
I miss how you scare those folks.
I miss your lips,
I miss your face,
I miss your touch,
I miss everything about you.
But I know, we both deserve better,
Those pain will heal,
And when that time arrives,
You and me are nothing but plain as nothing.

- 01082k16

I feel so ******* pathetic
Laying in this bed
Crying my heart out

It hurts me to know
That you aren't hurt
That you don't care
That you don't love me

And I can't do anything about it

Except lay here and cry

I once told you
that you are the only one who has ever inspired poetry in me.
Which isn't quite true,
but true enough.
You are the only one who inspires poetry out of love
Not pain.
You didn't shatter me like the one before,
who inspired so much darkness it filled my pages for years.
Instead, your freckles were the stars the guided me into hope.
Your eyes became emeralds that illuminated my poems with color.
You became the one.
The one who makes my voice stronger, my heart lighter, my me me-er
I am silly and light and infinite in your arms.
Even when my poetry is wrought with word *****,
the words are lyrical to my eyes and ears,
and if the poetry I write isn't meant to be for me,
then who is it meant for?