it's like,
like fire being shot up my veins;
I feel alive.
It's addicting,
it's living in the unknown,
but every time I open my eyes...
I can taste it.
The nostalgic bliss on my tongue.
It's real.

But do I want it without you?

Now that it’s over, or so you say,
I feel compelled to wait another day,
For you to cry, for you to miss me.
I have visions that you kiss me
And forget about how I hurt you
But even that aches; I still desert you,
On every single day.

You said you want me gone,
That all is lost and you’re alone.
Yet somewhere deep behind my shame,
I hear you whispering my name.
I tell you in absentia: “I never meant to hurt you.”
That I was deserting my old self and not you.
And yet I come back and you’re still gone.

Would it help if I said it was never about you?
Or does that hurt because it really was?
Would you understand that I didn’t yet deserve you?
Or does it feel too much like a stumbling pause
Between the beauty thing that was you and me
And the pull of a deserted house, a dangerous key?

I was sick and lost for so many years,
Drying my own sorrow with another’s tears.
The emptiness I felt inside was hidden,
Behind another’s hell.
I looked in the mirror to find myself
And saw a backward road on a path I knew too well.
Trying to escape—it was not love but addiction
That pulled me back to a tragic fiction.

And now I live in a no-man’s land.
I reach out in the night to grasp your hand,
Expecting to feel you there,
Imagining climbing up the stair
To reach you in the light,
As I used to do when things were right.
But now it’s over,
We’re nowhere now.
I’m sorry, so sorry my love!
I still will find you somehow.

That pure innocent smile,
Your childish face and that side profile,
Your silky hair and that perfect hairstyle,
Would never forget you.
**** I miss you!

The touch of your smooth skin,
That beautiful little chin,
Your blushy cheeks and that grin,
Still I adore you.
**** I miss you!

Those big dope eyes,
That Stupid nose ,
Those size 7 feet and pinky toes.
Your medications and Ayurvedic dose.
Wish again to feel you.
**** I miss you!

Baby I still remember,
that freezy December,
The day we fell off the scooter,
Your stupid buggy computer.
Our first date and the perfect kiss,
That raining night we spent in balcony
When you burnt the toast and macrony,
That birthday card you made me,
Helping in projects and assignments,
You taking care when I got sick,
I recall all those perfect memories of you,
still there's a place for you,
**** I miss you!

I wish you would have waited,
I would have come back,
But I can't blame you,
It was me who needed the space,
The fault is my OWN!
So I am the one left ALONE! :'(

"See, I don't always have that luxury. . .
I don't get to play with his fingers while our hands are clasped together,
or mess up his hair because it looks soft.
I can't feel the shape of my body mold perfectly with his in a hug,
or feel his slightly chapped lips kiss my cheek when I do something silly,
or even steal his glasses, hoping he'll chase me around to get them back.
I can't hear his heartbeat when I lay on him,
or smell him whenever we fall asleep on each other.
I don't get to see him look me in the eyes when we talk face-to-face,
or compare our heights side-by-side in the mirror,
or have him try on my clothes to find that they're way too small and girly.
I can't look at him from a side profile while we watch TV,
or watch him make us a snack at midnight.

Instead, I have to look at my camera, and not those ever changing blue, green, and grey eyes.
Instead, I think about him while I walk my school halls and wonder what his weather is like.
Instead, I have to touch and hold my own hands where his would be.
Instead, I have to cry into the hoodie I stole that only has a drop of his scent left on it.
Instead, I spend my time online finding the cheapest plane ticket to go see him.
Instead, I stay up until 2:17 in the morning because I find myself missing his lips.
Instead, I dream of the day we can be together without 650+ miles between us.

I knew this pain would be here,
I knew it would haunt me.
And I knew it would hurt like my soul was being torn into a thousand pieces,
and my heart was bleeding onto my skin from the inside out.
And I knew that when things go wrong back at home, we won't always be there to hold the other.
But if this is what it takes to be with the person who makes me want to wake up to see the sun shine again,
if this is what it takes to be with the man that makes me want to live when I wanted to be thrown in a box with the oxygen off,
if this is what it takes to be with the one who showed me that love wasn't dead,
and pulled me out when I was trapped in my thoughts,
to feel what true love is?
oh I'll do it all. . . for him and me.

You know?"

You looked much prettier with long hair.
Don’t - give me that, show me a smile
it’s better to be natural oh!
look your arms are so hairy, hairier than mine.

Not rowdy or older than myself but definitely
confident and intelligent and maybe even
‘quirky’ as long as she’s thin
and kind. Because I don’t like fat girls

how to find your dream woma
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I think I’m still in love with Grace but
she ignores and blanks and shuns me even
after I shared so much yet
she doesn’t even seem to care

hey
I’m verrru drunk
I see u
the little green dot next to your name haha
night then iguess

I think I just hate women and that
stupid insipid conceited *****
couldn’t tell a good guy if
he cuffed her clean
across the cheekbone
and spat in both her eyes

I used to write
My secrets in the sand,
Knowing they would never stay
Long enough to be told.

I used to just swim,
pulled my hair up and never
Really tasted the salt that foamed
After the crash.

I've ran in the sand,
Sure, but never have I
Ever let it smooth my
Skin into what it could be.

Before today, I've never
Let the current take me
Under and feel what it's like
To always come back to something.

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.