When guys ask what I like
(in bed)
I say, rough.
And they usually smile or high five
(i got a high five yesterday)
They don't know that I want
them to
claw my back until
it bleeds
(oh baby, more)
I want my wrists pinned down
(mark them as a souvenir)
Bite my lips
my neck
my body
(i do it, but it's so much better from you)
For some
reason
it hurts
so badly when I ****
(but you shove it anyways and i silently say thanks)
Physical pain is so much better
(yeah, i like it rough)

A thought awakens
Blood rushes, heart pounds, timeless
Dried salt tracks remain
Warm breath rememberances
Held fast by yesterday's dream

what do you say to someone
to tell them everything you feel
when they were the reason behind
your words for years?

how do you say i love you
and happy birthday
and please don't leave me
and you mean everything to me
and you are still the reason behind my words
without it sounding trite or desperate?

it's been four years and i still don't know.
but i love you, please don't leave me.
you mean everything to me.
happy birthday.

I brushed my hand across what you said
then remembered
the exact moment I discovered
my favorite hiding place
where my heart could take deep breaths
and move away from the shadows
speaking as echoes across my mind.  
I could feel them move far, far away
from my beating heart
taking me to heights
where I could escape to a better place,
I thought I'd never find.

The deepest pain.....all the hurt I feel,
becomes trivial in this journey
where I define myself
and rises above my existence
here in the solitude
I find
within this hiding place.
Here, my heart becomes softly addicted
to leaving behind
the complications which cling
to the railings
of all my inspiration
when I attempt to write
the song of a nightingale
and every bad memory.........
erase.

i pulled over to the side of the road,
and watched your funeral procession pass by.
i don't know who you were or how you died,
but those sleek black cars just didn't stop.

there was a lull in the traffic.
i considered driving again.
but then i could hear something.
music, with 808s and screams.

following the sophisticated,
respectful, hoity-toity procession,
was at least twenty used cars,
each filled with teenage boys.

every single one, drivers included,
had an arm out the window,
clutching onto the same style beanie.
black, with white checkered stitching.

i could hear them yell for you.
i could see them cry for you.
i don't know who you were,
or what you did.

but you made a difference in some lives.
you can count on that.
i hope you were able to see it.
i'm glad i was.