.
In his breathy love's eyes
The winds are wandering,
Their legs have sauntered
In a loose fit journey away
From the warmth of arms'
Embrace, under the stars,
A heart of days splendour,
Has waned into a wincing
Chain, propped and long,
Where even the dark sees,
They sooth incandescently
Blind.  How can love grow
In a vow hermetically cold
When all outsides' beams
Are breaking like the sun?

I'm bad with second chances,
I'll be the first to admit,
But I think it may be fit
To forgive someone for their mistaken romances.

We are all children after all
At least in the heart,
So perhaps I shouldn't let this friendship fall,
The relationship might not be all whole, but at least part.

So, even though I may be confused,
As to how this mistake could have been performed,
This should not be used,
As means to wish this friendship was never formed.

Please earn back my trust,
And make my past anger unjust.

We are born without teeth
yet, instinctively bite
peach lips forming circles
around fingers,

I remember the first bite,
he was pale and wore dusty
jeans. He came into my
bedroom, offering wine
he had laced with crushed
pills, unknowing that
to me his skin was laced
with ecstasy

the numbers mount up
in the same way they
fade, days disappearing
when a calendar turns,

memories are meant to
etch themselves into
our bones, but I  realised
that it was blood, blood
that preserved our former
selves, each drop a day,
each mouthful a moment,

they think I bite out of
spite, out of fury and
rage

but I am merely a collector
of moments that do not
belong to me, a predator
of the passage of time

I am gluttonous, I admit
but feeding on men that
prey on women does not
seem like greed,

I remember....
the night I was bitten.
He was tall and tattooed,
I liked his shoes,

***** flowing like water,
clear, crystal water
purifying (I thought)
until it hit my brain
paralysing all thought
and then...

Hell moved inside me,
a self-gratifying demon,
inked with a dragon,
as gunless as I
was Godless

I bite these men now,
these haters of women,
who **** and drink and dare
to slip a finger in,

I am reflection -
less and yet I know
what a mirror would show
about me,

the exit left of the battered
woman, who dared to change
her set, her scenery, her script

no, I am not ashamed of the
blood I take, but I am not
an animal who kills
for sport, for fun, for food

I am vengeful, I am every woman
sick of settling for less,
I am that woman you pitied
then despised,

I am that ******* a cold
bedroom floor, reborn

with fangs

I like to paint,
Now, let's be clear,
That does not mean I'm good at it,
It means I like it,
I like to paint.

Lines across a page,
Colors colliding together,
Forming something new,
And it's not perfect,
That's the point.

Because, when you paint,
It should be a perfect world,
No mistakes,
It's more comfortable to look at,
To be with,
But why create a farce?

People deserve to know the truth,
And sometimes the truth is crooked lines,
Blotted colors,
Irregular shapes,
That's the way it goes.

Life is all these cringes,
All the tears that make paint into water colors,
All of the confusion,
Life is imperfect.

I like to paint,
And I suppose I am not too great
At making a perfect world,
But I'm **** good at making a real one.

Sidetracked sunbeams break through a shaded heaven

Their curiosity claimed the dark

Illuminating an astounding sequence

Industrial excess now lost in a vast indifferent green

It's structure resigned to an organic reclamation

Man made contraptions
corrupted with time

Man made rust
A fine coating for these blooms

Lives once spoken for

Buried beneath earth and root

Leaving only remnants for these spaces less traversed

Tread on brickwork once shadowed with motion

It's wind weaved patterns suggest no recent confrontation

Now only a rains persuasion may reveal its meticulous layering

Footsteps fall and the microscopic scatter

Leaving only an imprint for indication should another soul stumble here

One flight higher,
One step up.

Two eyes would meet,
One will surrender.

Right foot step,
Left heel back.

Straight to the darkness,
Fell head over heels.

One step higher,
One slip up.

Falling in pieces ,
Faking broken smiles.

Feet forward,
Pride stares back.

No stairway drama,
Just a storybook end.