Wrestle me well, my love,
     For we were star-crossed enemies,
          And I miss you.

My shoulders miss your caring arms,
My lips crave your pale-red tongue,
     A slice of refreshment, watermelon,
My chest searches the rise of your chest,
And my torso longs only, and is only,
     For your leg locks.

     Grapple me and my lightweight heart,
     As the backbone of this world breaks,
     As the sun sinks into final submission,
          But I will never tap on this love out.

               Never.*

© 2017 J.S.P.

You: cheeks stained with opal drops,
lips smudged with ghost kisses.

Film star smoking in the dusk light,
wearing her wrap around coat and a frown.

Give ‘em hell and make them pay,
or cower beneath the blankets and shiver.

She’s a solid punch to the nose
but she does it so well you’ll praise her fist.

And she lets you take the stage for a while,
so she can watch you swing your hips.

Watch her through the frosted glass,
follow her through the demented nights.

Let her make you crazy.
Let her make you cry.

All I see is up
The pink flower stretches to forever at the sky
I stare wishing to be among the clouds
Its anterior filters the sun’s warmth upon my soft arms
I sit upon the dark, sodden, summer earth
I am all to myself. Alone.
At home under their stems
So benign am I encased by the pink flower

The pink flower trembles under slight hand of a summer breeze
Honeyed are its petals,
But dangerous is its center
Pricking my delicate fingers
If I am not careful
Yet I watch a dragonfly land on it with grace           
Fragile insect legs grip tightly at the miniature pointed peaks

Wind caresses wisps of hair around my petite face
I am like a fairy
Not knowing the wonders of the world
Only the kingdom of the pink flower
Moisture sweetens the air
Drenching it with the breath of nature
Almost as if a mother is breathing comfort into my small body

when we get depressed we sink into the sand

the world it seems so dark completely out of hand

everything is grey all the colors gone

you asked yourself  this question how do i carry on



do i want to live do i want to die

do i sit in sadness watch the world go by

there are many people who often feel this way

all there hopes and dreams seem so far away.



it is such a shame when depressions start

it screws you up inside and destroys your heart

many people suffer each and everyday

you dont know what to or find the words to say



its a shameful illness why is life this way

why cant it turn around and simply go away

When they see the scars for the first time,
Don’t expect them to understand.
Those white lines that trace across your thighs are not a symbol that means anything to them.
They are not a release,
They are not an opening where pain can scream its way out of your body with blood.
Don’t expect them to look at you with love or admiration,
Because the first time they see those scars all they will see is mental insanity.
There are so few people on the planet who understand the inner workings of a blade that’s been dragged across skin,
So few people who know that being addicted to a silver razor is a real thing.
When you try to explain to them why your body is like a freshly trampled battlefield,
They won’t want to hold you close and try to make the wounds fade,
But they probably will anyways.
They won’t understand why you have to give them your x-acto knife and extra blades that you bought for a class,
They won’t understand why you can’t just keep them in your room.
The first time they find the scars that you thought were so well hidden,
They might break inside,
Their heart may shatter and for a second they may feel everything at once.
Don’t let their shock and fear pull at you;
When they see those scars, let them know how intimate a moment they’ve just experienced.
Open yourself up to them the way you did with the blade,
Let them hold onto your hand as you trace each thin slice with your finger and describe how hard it is to not do it again.
When they see your scars, that’s when you are an open book.
Let them read you slowly or quickly,
Help them turn every page and explain the paragraphs that they missed when they lost track of the words.
Don’t let them become another reason to retreat back to your old wounds and new scabs.