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Carla Michelle Nov 2014
"We'll be together, on the anniversary
of the day I got deflowered."
"Funny how you call it that"
he said
"What do you want me to call it?"
"The first day we made love"
he said.
A brief conversation I just had with my boyfriend.
Carla Michelle Nov 2014
"My story" you said.
I am composed of a thousand thoughts
all which scream violently
in the roar of a swift violin
.
"My story" you said.
I'm afraid of everything, but
the calm movement of
sugary winds terrify me
more than the words you
must keep hidden from me
.

You said.

My story is not the
sly way I flip my "magical" hair at the break of dawn.
It is not the "cunning" way I say
my "gentle" words.
It is not the "careless manner" in which
I dress.

But you said.

My story will not be
why you have found a reason
to see beauty in me.
Nor in the depths of my "yellow brick road"
eyelashes.
My story will not define me,
but instead characterize the
reason why I overthrew you.
C.R
  Nov 2014 Carla Michelle
Carolin
You're the blood
flowing between
my head and heart.
You're the one who
writes poetry between
my legs. No fire can
ever set us apart. That's
what i felt from the
start. Eyes big and
round. They let me
gaze and feel as if i
am lost in a never ending
maze and in the haze of
blood red wine. I bow down
to you as they make me feel
the shivers descend down
my spine. As they make me
feel the drizzle of rain in the
middle of a chaotic hurricane.
As they make all these memories
we've created rush like feral
waves to my mind while holding
my tonic up high like a wooden
cross. How do you manage to
make my cheeks blush every time
you call me Mine .How
can you be so beautiful
and so devine? Wild and shy
as the wolf howling after the
clock passed midnight by
the shallow river side.
You're what's holding
the power to keep me
alive this entire time* ~
My blank eyes stare
In bold frustration
At the white sheet
Sitting, calmly mocking me
On the plain brown table

The pen quivers in hand
My mussels shake with shame
But try as I might
My ideas are insanely sane

No bursting fits of passion
Or inspiring metaphors
Only a page covered in splatters
From my ink of internal wars

A block of metal in my mind
A chain of iron on my hand
Glossy mirrors on my eyes
Spiking needles in my thighs

Calling for me to get up
To leave this terrible attempt
But when a poets mind is blank
Like mine
About blankness will they find a rhyme
Carla Michelle Nov 2014
To discover the many levels
of complete satisfaction
which most would call
"falling too early, too fast"
is just a shy breath away from
deeming it to be too slow,
and I need it faster.  
My eyes will never lurk on a path
that does not reminisce on his very
scent, yet urge to find and consume it alone.
My lips will not crave to seek attention
that does not follow with the same
softness they do know.
My body will reach out
in such lengths to find him, because he,
is my sanctuary.

To touch him is to ask me
to fall in love with him,
yet not so indirectly.
To ask me to not look into
his eyes, is to take away
every beautiful thing I've learned
from him.
And if he asks me to do those things,
I might hesitate, yes.
But remember, when something is
a bit too hesitant, it's not really
ever done.

Yet I dare him to ask me to kiss him, to touch him, to love him.
Because from that day and forward, I will never
let him stop remembering why he ever asked me to.
I will shower him with stammering kisses, like
bombs igniting over his very skin.
I will never let my hands leave his body,
scratching at his skin like its the most
beautiful rash I've ever had.
I will never forget the way he looks at me
on a daily basis, or the aggressive meets gentle way
he holds me
.

And you are my sanctuary.
And now, you are no longer a
He or him.
And that, my love,
is me loving you, because you love me*.
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