Her love
You know the sort
That makes you lay your head against the hardwood floor
Questioning yourself
Or no one in particular
Where did she come from?
Do you remember eagerly awaiting an answer
From beneath the crevices pushing against your jaw line
As the silence gnawed on your bones
Because I bet when she touched her fingertips to yours
Both of your souls response insinuated a path of many colors
Did her laughter warm your frost bitten lungs?
While her stare burnt bright behind your irises?
She probably tenderly confided in you a thousand silent words
Day after day
Until the depths of her beauty lit that fire inside
Igniting it with a smile that threw your heart into the wind
Every time
She was that commercial love , Right?
Misty meadows and crashing waves with summer salt
She was that drown in her kiss and leave you gasping for air, love
That lay your head on the hardwood and wonder where it all went love
Am I right?

This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem

Squeamish much?

Did he really think he could call my bluff?

By the way his shoulders fold out to hide his face I assume he sought

Now he's cleaning his mess from the floor, shattered like red rubies

Because he was referring to God but only saw himself in my shades as he accused me

And morality falters with every exhale he can muster

The thought of ripping his spine out, God knows would satisfy my interest in watching him suffer

He stood before me and spat how I was a waste of a woman

Because I prefer soft hands and collarbones, with love as passionate as a dressing room kiss

I said it's perpetually misunderstood in all of its bliss, my preference doesn't hold you liable

Neither, your ignorance

Something about the power invested in the moan of a woman, the throb in my heart causes my blood to flow hotter and brighter

He said its blasphemy, frowned upon in the Bible

So I took his girlfriend for a joyride and taught her how to really smile