You make me feel like
A natural Woman.
Like a woman with curves
And hips that don’t lie,
And ******* that don’t quit.
You make me feel like
An intelligent woman.
Like a woman with intellect
And thoughts in her mind
And wits in her soul.
You make me feel like
A beautiful woman.
Like a woman with sparkling eyes
And luscious lips
And a captivating smile.
You make me feel like
A wanted woman.
Like a woman you desire
With the touch of your hand
And the song of your mouth.
You make me feel like
A real woman.
Like a woman who wants
And inspires
And entices you.
You make me feel like
A powerful woman.
Like a woman who can charm your heart
And beguile your soul
And devour you whole.
You make me feel.
You make me feel
You make me feel
Like a Woman.

"it'll be quick, just count to three."
i sit drenched in nostalgia,
(also known as "Polo Blue")
afloat in thoughts.
and you told me not to panic
because if you panic,
you drown.

"one."
most days i'd sit on the roof wanting to scream,
and sometimes i'd want to jump off.
but i did neither because i knew you wouldn't come rushing
to kiss all that was hurt.
(like that one time i scabbed my knee at aunt norma's, do you remember?)
so instead i sat there wishing to see you hang
the christmas lights like you did
every year, the day after thanksgiving.

"two."
i'd be tempted by your ties still
hanging in your closet that still smell like you.
but i knew you'd tell me to quit playing with them,
(like when i was five, do you remember that?)
because you'd need them for work the next day.
so i left them alone hoping to be able to
watch you tie your tie once more and
actually learn to tie one myself.

"three."
i'd throw myself into the pool,
hoping the rules of buoyancy wouldn't apply.
but i keep floating above, just like you said i would.
(remember me being so scared to do that?)
i don't even panic anymore.
you taught me well,
but not well enough.
because it isn't panic that is drowning me.
it's the sea of thoughts that are
sinking me slowly, but surely.
i've counted to three and it's not quick enough.

so i continue to recount because
what you always said was true.
and i hope what you say is true,
because i keep hoping to hear you say,
"it'll be quick, just count to three."

notifications made me really and primitively love the color red >_<

Of all the girls in all the world that love the smell of paper

There’s nothing in this world that smells quite like good behaviour

Nostalgia in the morning makes me think that you’re right there

You’ve been lost long enough now I should know you just don’t care

Poetry to sleep to like and antidote that heals you

All of it makes little sense unless I can be near you

Every seven years
each skin cell in the body is renewed.
I can't muster the patience to wait.

I stand under angry faucets for hours,
hoping that the scalding downpour will wash you away.
I rip and tear at my own arms
my own *******
my own lips,
like you did.

I take razors to my hair
till every strand of golden silk lies beneath my feet,
ready to be swept away,
joining gin bottles and day-old untouched dinners
maybe even the remains of a pretty girl
like me

When I can almost make believe
that you are no longer sticking to my skin
I can still feel you seeping out of my pores.
Taking off layers wasn't enough
so I tear you out of me from the inside.

I shove my fingers between my legs,
clawing up and inside
till red warmth drips from them
I scrape my insides with monstrous hungry fingernails.

Once I've gone too far
I keep going,
puncturing liver and lung,
finally reaching the carnivorous red thing
I want out of me more than anything.

I grasp it in two hands,
seven pounds of ripe, contorting muscle,
sending blood through arteries and now to the world outside.

I want to show this creature its own sins;
I rip it from its place behind my breast,
severing vein from vein.
It continues to thrash like it knows what's coming.

I carry it to the kitchen table,
find your knife in my hands
and press down gingerly,
sweetly carving your name into this demon which betrayed me.
Squirming, writhing, it tries to get away,
but it is me and I am it.

I destroy it as it let you destroy me,
relish the sight of you rushing from my own veins.
Satisfied, I walk to the sink
and rinse you off of the metal blade.