Baby I pray you find peace among the broken pieces of your mind.
That which you claim to be whole

I pray you never have to torture anyone's heart
To console your own tortured soul

I have stuck my love together with glistening tears
and bear you no ill will at all

Sweet baby of mine, I pray you heal
from the black pain you projected on me like nightfall

Be safe baby and I pray you find peace  
for in the cage of your heart there's a door to release.

By #TinaRSH

You cannot **** a dead man.
Nor can you break someone
who is already into pieces.
#TinaRSH

I am drenched
                  in you
            as you wash
  through my pores
I am quenched
in tsunami
as it pushes down
my door
I am splayed
to all four corners
exposed to your eye
My veins are frayed
from suffered hautings,
'Til you
rock my tender tide
My torso is taut
to meet liquid lips
all these *****,  
silky thoughts
controlling my hips
We share a
          rushing river language
speaking deftly in tongues
You penetrate my soul
as I breathe air into
your lungs
So take me on an
underwater journey
down the crash
of your shore
I want to drown
in this ocean
and come to life
with a roar

Morning is such a desperate lover.
How else could she make
you meet her if she didn't
steal your dreams at night?

No, poetry is not written in books
by scholars. It is etched upon
Lips that shape the sweetest murmurs
and bellow bare bitter truth
frantic as a madman, poetry
Held up with bra straps
and masked beneath an underwear
Hot, Succulent, lavish
Just that feminine, poetry
With all the morons who aim
to grasp it through stories
of a man and his lost love, poetry
is windswept hair and hips in motion
and twilight tears that flow like an ocean
poetry, with its complex simplicity
is a woman who reads bible in a *******
and wears bubblegum skirts to funerals
Tasted, embraced, kissed, licked, felt,poetry
can never be read..or understood.

Tina RSH

My dear old pain is in his death bed
and mourning comes in a haste
sits by my side, sheds some tears
Pats me on the left shoulder
Time flies by, old fellow
and we have to make it quick
so brisk do her tears trickle down
the weight lifted off her chest
by the invisible hand of time
the foe she shuddered to confront
But I hold my beloved pain by the hand
plant a mouthful of dry kisses on his lips
those he splashes with his tongue
Those that fan my fire with urgent pleas
But the scent of his evaporating blood
collaborates with the callous grasp of mourning
and the two unlock our burning lips
Now ruffled with the absence of my beloved pain
I stand back, to bid the mourning farewell
and dig my chest deep enough to bury
all the love I had for the gone soul
of my beloved pain..

My blood is sacred for it waters
the burning drought that surges
the barren outskirt of my skin
It ignites the grave of every dead muscle
killed for shooting a wide toothy smile
across my unquivering lips
It tells long forgotten tales
of all the women I used to be
but failed to see,with eyes shut
vomitting tears of self disdain
and a widespread rash over my skin
My blood is a red flag of relief
from a heap of decapitated veins
and the sardonic cold inside each *****
Every drop, a stifled scream for help
a pitiful plea to be noticed
And a scar-let seductress
waltzing across each arm
In the fading light of room
and the dying music of my heart
but my sacred blood still shines
it spills like barrels of wine
down the outskirts of my barren skin
and from each tiny particle
rises a woman that says "sacred"