I love you body and soul,
graced by the heavens to find you,
to have us together is my nirvana.
I am too proud to admit,
you are
my breath. .
my brain. . .
the tenderness. . .
my heart . . .
please, oh please.
by gods grace keep us united,
for I yearn for your love and respect.
Hear my plea, for its not a child's plea.,
but filled with sentiment from our youth.
promise to be tender
to love, and give affection.
I am yours to do as you will,
I am yours to break at your will
so please love me.

Your soul,
𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽

it's so easy to love someone,
when that person does not love you,
   He will mock you,
        He will use you,
            He will leave you disgusted,
              & broken too.
                But, its so easy to love him.

It's so hard to love someone,
  when that person loves you.
    He will cherish you,
        He will support you,
          He will leave you happy,
            & ecstatic too.
               But, yet its so hard to love him.

-ʍąʂօçհìʂէ

When your heart turns blue,
  remember our moment under the ugly tree,
    turn tears into smiles,
       when your heart is weary of misery ,
            turn to me. . .
                let me hold hold those feelings of melancholy.

-Ⓣ𝓊尺ᑎ 𝕋𝑜 м𝒆

Take my lips, and stain them.
Take my arms, and hold them,
Take my heart, and break it.
Take my eyes, so they can see,

Take my hips, and move them.
Take my legs, dance with them.

Better yet. . .

Take my soul, into yours.
   So we can dance in a state of purgatory
      in endless bliss, take me. . .

-T͓̽a͓̽k͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽

Perfect overhanging telephone cable shoes,
mocking under a desert breeze,
   torn ***** chucks that leave their mark,
           on a dark tapestry full of imagination.

Counting pennies in a stream,
children hypnotized by lovely tunes,
   desperately trying to buy scribblers for they come in two,
      two beautiful pops of multiple hues,
          dancing in synchrony,
                only to be ripped part,
                   under the desert breeze.

you were my scribbler. . .
  such a sweet memory,
     of two souls in a romantic setting,
           if only I had known,
                 I would say goodbye. . .

-ѕ¢яιввℓєя

Every second I wished you dead,
after you touched me,
each stroke
reducing me
. . . human. . .
. . . animal. .  .
. . . worthless . . .

you died,
at the funeral,
  I did not cry,
but I did not want you to rot,
I did not want you to burn,
I did not want to shout from the pew,
I was worthless,
at that time I was five,
but now I am fine,
I guess this feeling
is forgiveness not for you
but for me.


↫↫↫↫↫ ＦㄖяⓖⓘＶє𝐧ᵉŜＳ ↬↬↬↬↬

Elegant,
     polished,
              refined,
                  a mother used to say
                                   "be like marble"

but like marble I am porous,
  so easily cracked,
      broken,
        chipped
            scratched.
              each injury a reminder of  my weakness.


Like Marble,
  age becomes endemic of problem unspoken,
      I am replaced,
           for I am weak,
              broken and cracked.

"Mother I am like marble"

-мαявℓє