I want to
make love
to you
but not
in the way
you'd think

I want to
brush your soul
with my fingertips
and slip in and out
of this world
in your arms

I want to
show you
the galaxy
inside of my heart
and watch you
discover each star

I want to
press my lips
against your body
and write the story
of our love
in sloppy wet kisses

I want to
deeply inhale
your wild spirt
and get high
on all your
hopes and dreams

I want to
wander the maze
in your heart
and hang
my portrait
over the
cracked drywall.

I want to
feel you searching
my soul and
shouting out
in joy at
every piece you find

I want to
strip you
of your insecurities
until you can
bask naked
in the warmth
of my love

I want to
paint our lives
in vibrant memories
of days filled
with laughter
and nights filled
with passion

I want to
have all of you
in every moment
of every single day
for the rest
of forever

And if that
isn't making love.
*I don't want
to know
what is.

Pain causes the corners of your eyes to wrinkle.
Hate causes you to bare your teeth.
Madness causes you to release your war call.
Yet everyone still calls you beautiful.
They just think your laughing.

You captured
my fluttering heart
in your butterfly net.

You studied
the breaks
in my wings
and made me
believe you would
mend them

But in the dead
of the night
you would tear
the fragile flesh
in the bed
of another.

You ripped
the beauty from
my soul as
you caused
me to tear
my patterned body.

You disguised
yourself as
sweet and caring
but before my eyes
you metamorphosed into
narcissistic and hateful.

My fragile heart
was caught
in your web
of lies.

We played
familiar roles.
You the
poisonous spider
and I the
naive butterfly.

You spit out
a dry laugh
to try to hide
the death
in your eyes.

The desert
you call a soul
is so full
of memories
that *****
your mind
like cactuses
drawing pieces
of your happiness
like blood.

You try
to wash away
the reflection
in the mirror
with the salty rivers
pouring through
your tear ducts,
but that only blurs
your view
of reality.

You use your blade
to paint a more beautiful life
on your thighs
with crimson hopes
that someone will notice.

The happiness
of the life
you once had known
is buried deep
in the graveyard
of your thoughts
but the skeletons
you keep
in your closet
are in full view.

You dress them
in armor
and they fight off
the love of the ones
who care for you
like an elite force
of warriors determined
on destroying
the foreign feeling
of compassion.

You try to replace
the feeling of love
with the lust
of boys who's tongues
whip you with lies.

You plead with
every God
you have
ever heard of
every single night
to save you
from the darkness
but the doubt
in your heart
snuffs out their light.

Every day
you **** off
another piece
of your self
with the sword
of depression
leaving an
empty shell
of a person
in your place.

When are you going
to realize that
you're my reflection
and I'm trying
to shatter the mirror?