I'm doused in pink
And people think
That I'm weak
If my palette was bleak
Would you think me strong?
You'd think wrong
I'm made of steel
And quick to heal
I may be covered in bows
But heaven knows
This princess is tough
My edges might not be rough
I may look like a fragile flower
But I hold so much power
My femininity doesn't make me
Some weak little daisy
Beautiful yet tough, like diamonds & pearls
Just like the girls with ribbons and curls

I want to softly whisper
incomplete poems
on your collar bones
that don't rhyme with anything
but your heavy breathing.

I want to bury my face
in the curves of your neck
because you smell like the winter clouds
and I've been gazing at the sky
since you left.

I rather write about this world than live in it
And id rather play music all day
and read and wander around in bookstores
and watch humans but not be one of them.

When silence
falls around
the house
is when my
monsters
come out
to play;
their claws
draw
and teeth
ready,
waiting
for the
moment
when my
back is turned
and my eyes
grow heavy.
-JRM

In your presence, I become curious.
Alone, with thoughts of you I ruminate.
An infatuation so infectious.
Oh, how you make my life illuminate.
All I ever hear from you is silence.
What makes you so reserved, timid and shy?
Oh what I’d give to make your acquaintance.
So I listen and wait when you are nigh.
A quick connection of the eyes, a glance.
Your acknowledgement I’m barely given.
So strong is my desire for a chance.
Allow me your love and to you I’d run.
When will a mutual feeling flourish?
No confidence that I’ll gather courage.

The type of silence that can't lie for anything, who everyone knows that something is itching to seep out of her mouth, yet it only seeps out her eyes and not everyone can read it.

The type of silent that is so loud that you can't ever understand the meaning. The type that refuses to say what they mean, and leaves you with a handful of tissue paper but no gift.

The type of silence that is love letters written on the backs of receipts, that you put up your sleeve. Why do you do that? You'll throw them out anyways.