Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
1.0k · Oct 2010
Morning Coffee
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
I swerve, I dream, I think, I feel .
Shots of Bacardi to feel unreal.
Mislead thoughts, more *** appeal.
Your eyes, my curves.
My lips, your skin.
Melodies I’ve never heard.
We love rich, Love thin.
Ciqarette breath, I breath you in.
Never used love.
Forbidden four letters.
Sly grin,
Lust deep,
Lust me,
Freak sheets,
Bed freaks.
Everything but our voices speak.
So close, we never meet.
Mystic paths we explore.
Curious. We want more.
Kitchen, bed, bath, or floor.
To the rhythm of your hypnotism,
We exchange expressions.
Heavy progression.
Blunted and Blurred feelings
I still see you in my vision.
Stay moanin till the crack of early dawn creeps through your shades folded.
Early morning.
Bird symphony’s louder than last nights chirpin.
Feelinqs ******.
We had ******.
No more Bacardi.
Only your black coffee.
Still cant say I love you.
But I loved the night that had me lie beside your shadow in the morning.
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
You said you needed to find yourself before you could be with someone else.
What kind of ******* is that?
That you knew exactly who you were and at the first sight of me
you lost yourself then found yourself in me.
Making me believe that I was your one and only
To then find out id be one and lonely.
Leaving rigid thoughts to never leave,
Imprints of your hands stay carved between my knees,
Left a void inside my chest
and the feeling of nothingness that lies between my *******.
Missing the reflection of the sunlight’s rays that shined from your eyes
back into mine.
Tainted ticks sing from off my hour glass figure,
I was a waste of your time.
‘cause you wanted a blow
But I wanted to blow your mind,
Graffiti my name into your memory
Until I was all you could see
And you couldn’t breathe, needing me to stay alive.
Resting my head on the pillow known as tissue to my swollen eyes,
crushed.
Your ice cold words playback lines inside my head
that jam to themselves on the same beat as my heart
does.
Trying to find my truth,
Your truth,
And the REAL truth that separate my love from your lust.
Didn’t need you anyway ‘cause you were unworthy of us.

So all that’s left of you is hatred from a ball point pen
Crying through my paper.
Filling the empty spaces we were ’spose to fill together
Erasing doodles of your name written in my margins
Waiting for the next one so I can begin this process again.
Stored pages with words that will never truly have an end.
Maybe in another life we can try to make amends.
I’m simply wanting to be loved,
But not in bed.
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010
655 · Oct 2010
A Writer's Choice
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
A writer who picks up a pen filled with opportunity
is taken over by the ink .
Lines that trickle across blank paper cry for your strokes
but the meaning behind the nouns change with each blink .
The words no longer speak . No longer tickle you to remember her laugh.
Just. Blank. Paper.
Waiting for you to grasp each metaphor in file,
each simile that breaks down every part of you thats in her
to in turn receive her smile .
Careful with your word choice  
because tomorrow she might disappear,
so you say things to push aside the fear
you’ve always carried.
Trusting her to hide the ghosts that linger as you think,
But she’s too greedy to only have you.
See, she wants all of they’re attention
but he who writes still holds the pen  
to change all his offenses.
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010
601 · Oct 2010
Nothing
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
I despise the coil that wraps around me by your presence.
To live underneath your scent and discover love but I cant express it yet.
I want to know more of what hides behind that smile,
That shocks me breathless and diminishes my insides to a complete stop.
But I’m not willing to surrender what I haven’t yet explored,

Even if its nothing.

My eyes can taste your lips and feel their movement as they brush against my fingertips .

But we mean nothing .

Your hand breaks through my vulnerability and grasps my heart.
You hold such power in your hands .
You let it slip through like tan grain that blend in with the rest of the sand.

Uncertain eyes still make me your possession
But you.
You mean nothing.
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010
457 · Oct 2010
Just A Memory
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
The day my eyes reached yours,
that’s the day I never saw again.
The day you kissed my lips,
that’s the day I never found your kiss.
The day I opened up my heart ,
You closed the doors to my mind.
The day I tasted perfection,
I found myself comparing.
The day I let you go,
You kept my sacred possession.
In a way I want you to have it
Because it’s the only thing we have left between us
And all of our memories are like ripped pictures
But I still keep em.
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010
452 · Oct 2010
Only A Memory
Bianca Lorenzo Oct 2010
The day my eyes reached yours ,
that’s the day I never saw again .
The day you kissed my lips,
that’s the day I never found your kiss .
The day I opened up my heart ,
You closed the doors to my mind .
The day I tasted perfection,
I found myself comparing .
The day I let you go ,
You kept my sacred possession .
In a way I want you to have it
Because it’s the only thing we have left between us
And all of our memories are like ripped pictures
But I still keep em .
Bianca Lorenzo ©2010

— The End —