You tasted like sin-
cold, bitter alcohol
you bought with your fake ID
and stale cigarettes
you stole from your roommates.

We talked about God
and the Bible,
with your hands in
my unholy places.

In church,
they warn me about sin.
Ugly, vicious sin,
that'll tangle me up
and drag me straight to hell.

They don't warn me about sin
with thick, curly hair,
warm, soft skin,
and sleepy eyes
that look at me
like they've seen my soul.

I want your touch
I want your hands to discover every inch of my body so I can feel electric. Because your fingers spark my skin, if you touched my entire body I would be on fire

I want you to be brave
So that when you hold me, the fire will not make you feel afraid. After all it's you who caused it. They say you can not make fire feel afraid but if you don't hold me I'll know what fear feels like

I want you to choose
Me or her. Me or her. Me or her. If there was ever a choice to make, pick her. I don't want you to spend the rest of your life wondering if I was who you wanted

I want you to want me
But baby I won't wait forever

You gave a girl at work
a speech about how ***
should mean something.
You looked directly at me,
and continued to be a **** to me.

If it should mean something,
stop making me your 12am *******
when you can't find a prettier girl
to ****.

You kissed my sunburned lips,
got my number,
and left with a "let's hang out soon."

We're both bad at conversation,
but our bodies
got our points across.

"You'd be really hot if you actually ******* shaved. Hairy girls are disgusting," you snarled.
"*******," was easier to say than
"I smell like vanilla. You smell like 3 day old body odor."

Don’t pick the flowers child they’ll die*
Said my grandmother
And I listened

She promised that if I left them
Untouched
They’d grow and bloom with care

But she never told me that
People are like flowers

And when I picked you
All your petals fell