I've folded so slowly into myself.
Tucked emotions into creases,
crinkled corners stained from ink. 

Fingertips tingle from the need.
Yet my hands won't gather intent,
my heart just beats,
and I'm here,
but I'm not.

I could bleed through ink,
drops settling into words on paper.
Yet now I linger.
My clockwork heart on the tip of it all.

I protect myself so deeply,
blank envelopes with no postmark.
Destination void.

Letters filled with shards of me.
written with hopes,
and invaded by exclamation points.
some letters go unsent,
to remain unopened.

I travel the Mountains of Misconception, and camp along the Stream of Sorrow. Counting all the collapsible dreams, I utter prayers for a better tomorrow.

This rain cloud keeps on following me, my clothes soaked with unshed tears. Shadows keep attacking hope, whispering my worst fears.

These boots I wear upon my feet, have magic stitched in the seems. The gypsy that I bought them from, promised they help accomplish dreams.

At night I wish on falling stars, when my mind turns away from rest. Everything in my ****** life, is just another test.

His name sits on parted lips, I keep it close to heart. As I move to close this great distance, that tries to keep us apart.

This lover likes to cover me,
with soft lips and sandpaper hands.
His mouth on my body,
while fingers tugg through my dark hair,
and close around my throat.

This man is greedy with me.
Devours me whole,
always rough with need.
Yet his lips are the only contrasting element.
Setting my skin on fire,
with each delicate kiss.

His strong body,
is so graceful over mine.
We move together intertwined.
Always bending me,
into,
a new position of pleasure.
His grip leaves bruises,
trails of proof along my skin.

He only speaks in hushed gasps,
my name he whispers on the peak of ecstasy.
"You're mine"
he always says,
Kissing my swollen lips.
His eyes so dark,
I don't dare to disagree.

Silence rings,
with a depth that echoes
into my hollow self.
Causing this clockwork heart
to continue beating.
Even through the absence of.

My fingertips still tingle,
from the need
to touch you.
Unable to shake desire,
or the want,
of your body under my palms.
I still break,
every time the wind
whispers your name.

I couldn't catch,
in my delicate hands,
all your tears.
My prayers whispered heavily,
fell with to much heart.
My eyes wept  sincerely,
filling mason jars,
That I  sealed with empty apologies.

I bloom in front of you,
open and flourish under my own sun.
Yet you,
don't stop and watch anymore.

Under finger and thumb,
I stretch ever so delicately with hope.
yet you,
aren't accustomed to this shade of green.

Stretching upwards,
I wish on stars that make me feel insignificant in a greater world.
Yet you,
refuse to believe I am magic.

I cry tears of pure sadness,
watching life grow where they fall.
Yet you,
can't appreciate the simplicity of my nature.

I pour my soul into you,
intimacy in over flow and heart swollen.
Yet you,
can't see that I have begun growing roots.

I can't do away with a broken soul, nor can I fix all the pieces. So I'm tearing out the pages of me, to ease this pain that never ceases.

Scribbled verses set in margins, that make sense only to those who choose to see. Erasing all the unspoken truth, that made a prisoner of me.

Dog eared pages I intended to revisit, one day when they made sense. Learning lessons from Humility, yet I've bent at her expense.

What is written in the book of me, no one would want to read. Demons sitting in the darkness, bickering over what they prefer to feed.

I put it all to paper, now I want to destroy it in the end. This book of me has come to be, my only confidant and friend.

Like rocks that fill my pockets, it just weighs me down. Regret always whispering doubt, it would be better just to drown.

I hold it between parted lips, his name that can't be said. Like sandpaper on the tongue, my frustrations so deep I cracked and bled.

Tell me Sorrow why I sit, on the corner of Self and Obligation. While in the cloak of night I cry, and choke on my own damnation.

I can't wash this new lover off my body, the filth won't rinse away. Another name on the list, another excuse not to stay.

It burns within like a thousand fires, desire that can't be repressed. But I'm so busy punishing myself, that I may never rest.