If home is where the heart is,
I must have lost mine among my luggage.
I'm getting used to a city 30 minutes from my first home.
It is as if I am living in a mansion with nothing on display.

The walls are bare.
The walls are where?

You are my metaphorical bed;
you keep me safe and warm.
The physical bed smells like your skin, so I never want to get out of it.
The rest of the house has no evidence of you.

I am familiar with sleep, and ***, and snoring.
Beyond the bed is new territory that I am still figuring out.
Be patient with me.

I'm leaving today.
I'm packing pieces of myself, removing all the evidence that I was ever here.

The room is starting to look so bare.
The bathroom looks so empty without my hair products and deodorant lining the sink.

My absence will be just as noticeable as my presence;
white cat fur on dark clothes.

I'll miss these walls.
I'll miss greeting you with my lips.
I'll miss hearing you say you love me when we end a phone call.
I'll miss you.
Years down the road I'll bring you up to faces you've never seen.
I'll let them know how you saved me,
and taught me about what it means to love someone unconditionally.
I'll keep the story alive.
Strangers will know you by name.
They will recognize the bits of me that you assisted in sculpting.
People will remind you that I'm a bird, so if you love me then let me go;
that will not ease the pain in your heart.
I want the freedom, but there will be rainy days where I will want to run for cover in your shelter.
If I do not get through the rain by myself,
I'll never discover all the rainbows ahead.

The ring you got me three years ago has gained a great amount of weight.
I think it is filled to the brim with memories,
but looking back won't make it less heavy.
Taking it off will be my last goodbye to our romance,
and the final resting place of our relationship will forever remain inside our hearts.

                                                        ­                                Goodbye, Lover

Am i a sight for sore eyes,
or am I the cause for your corneas burning behind shut eyelids?

Without a shield,
each and every flaw of mine is exposed;
I'm so **** vulnerable.
Your eyes are able of scanning my skin for imperfections,
every stretch mark,bump, pimple; self inflicted scars;
every pore.


How can you find me beautiful when my body looks like a battlefield?
You've seen every war I've won;
all the battles I've started.

One day I'll wear my scars like a badge,
that is as visible as every time I took a blade and lighter to my body.

I hope that when you see the aftermath,
that you are thankful I did not dig any deeper than what I had.

when you started to love me,
that's when my life began.
For the first time, I believe someone who says they love me, as a whole.
Not parts, not pieces.

All of me,

and I owe you everything for what you've sparked in me.

I want to etch my soul into your skeleton,
all 206 of your bones
so I can possibly be something you always keep inside of you.
Let me be your frame.

I'd ask to be your skin too,
but i'd be ridden of much too soon.
I'd be scrubbed off when you bathe,
shaken off in your sleep while you dream.
I'd be the dust piled on your keyboard,
brushed off when it gets to be a sore to your eyes.


Skin cells renew, and I want you to feel fresh every morning
so I take that last stanza back.
Please allow me to be the skin that covers you, and the blood in your veins.

I am your second body.
If yours ever abandons you, let my heart pump your blood
and let my skin act as an umbrella to your  beautiful insides.

To anyone who's listening,

If four months ago I was warned about the heartache to come,
I wouldn't have been able to resist.
I can't apologize enough for my lack of self-control.
You are in a hole, because I feel the need to dig when given a shovel.

He was kissing my lips,
tugged my pants off my hips.
My eyes couldn't stop wandering towards the glow of the clock.
I was keeping track of time,
because I knew in 3 hours we will be at the beach together.
I focused on feet engulfed in sand.

"Who do you belong to?"
                          "you"

That's partially true. My body is yours in this moment, but my heart
is three hours ahead of you plucking sea shells from the beach with somebody else.

My body is a canvas, colored in with meaningless strokes. There is no space left to create a masterpiece.
I let all my past lovers paint pieces of my portrait, and i became the bad things they depicted. I can't be all the bright colors you believe I can be; it is hard to cover up the black stains on my work of art.

Most days I am ****** about into the tides.
I often find myself dangerously distant from the shore,
borderline drowning.
Once in a ******* blue moon, I get pulled into a rip current of you.
I bathe in every inch of you,
soak up your radiance.
I get my sun tan,
and take a dip into your ocean
body
soul
heart

every chance I get.