She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew

He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky

Be who you want to attract,
Before you start "searching" for the right person,
Be the right person,
Find yourself,
Be comfortable with who you are,
Find happiness within you,
If someone is the only basis of your joy,
I'm afraid,your joy might be a mirage.

I guess I'm supposed to fall in love right?
I'm supposed to feel butterflies and laughter?
I'm supposed to post wedding dresses on pintrist
And instantly delete my tinder...
I'm supposed to wait for his text by the minute
And wish on a star that I see him soon
I heard that girls when they're in love fantasize
About what he may look like as her groom.
I heard that women write in diaries about men
Scribble love poems and play Taylor Swift
I guess I'm supposed to do these things when I feel something special
I think I'm supposed to value his love as a gift.
Sure, why not.
Give me love and I'll show you what it's really for
It's a tool that men use on women
To keep them knocking on their door.
It's disgusting and it makes me sick
They really are all the same
And if you think for one second that he gives a **** about you
Then you've already fallen for his game.

When you would stare at me,
Eyes fixed onto mine,
When you'd gaze at my lips,
For endless amounts of time,
When you'd tell me I made you nervous,
And to stop licking my lips,
Because even that small feat,
Created urge for a kiss.

I remember them,
Passionate,
Addicting,
Enough to make me understand,
The best kisses come from,
The person you love.
Only with you, have I felt that.

Season of love, or so I was told.
Day of Saint Valentine, spurn my sorrow;
Dozens of red roses, bouquets of blood.
But you’re drunk as a horsefly.
Claim you’re an oldie, but only a kidult with an early retire.
Climb on the mattress pad, ruin the moment,
you could have easily slit my throat!


What’s left is only bittersweet;
I think only of the best that we could have had;
The borders we could have hiked;
And the babies that we should have had!
Now I’m cold and afraid, willing it all away.  
What’s the point of writing these poems
if you’ll never read them?