I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust

She wakes up each morning
Looks in the mirror
…
She puts an oversized hoodie over

Straightens her hair
Like every other girl in her school
Oh no
She burns her finger

Covers her imperfections
With powders
That suffocate her skin

Coats her eyelashes
With sticky black goop
That crusts when it dries

Her mother calls her down for breakfast
“I’m not hungry”
She says
She hasn’t been hungry for two weeks

You know what they say
Beauty is pain

She goes to school
Why is everyone else so skinny?
And beautiful?
And perfect?
She wishes she were them

But what she doesn’t know
Is that
Those skinny, beautiful, perfect girls
Wishes they were her

On the 'Words' page,
here on this site,
'love' is the first word,
sitting lovely, without blight.
Peculiar, though,
it seems to be
That love is the thing
killing both you and me.

Why is it we dream of what we fear most?
For thrill, for passion? Maybe it is, who knows.
Many, many poems, and pieces of art
include the broken word sent from the heart;
l
   o
      v
          e.