I can't feel my fingers, or yours as they touch my neck. I can't see your mouth opening to encompass skin. I feel nothing. I feel nothing. I feel nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing. I am nothing.
I hate that my pain Is so easy for you to dig Your hands into I hate that I write poetry To spread as much good As hurt you've given me I hate that you can preach About forgiveness When you know more About my body Than Christianity I hate that my life Will always be a reoccurring nightmare I hate that I cannot silence you Because you are still The blood inside my mouth
the beauty that is more than skin deep is the beauty of her ocean eyes that swell and sway and open to raw divine innateness . Beauty is in her gentle steady hand and in her open smile. in the depths of her buoyed soul so full it leaks from the cracks in her rib cage onto the pages of her skin leaving every bit of her heart on her sleeve on purpose. feminine and imperfect pink and smudged open and raw beauty is more than skin take a look within yourself look at your mother your cousin she is loveliness exterior beauty is bliss, but a kind soul is wonderful
It was like if we kissed eachother hard enough we would eventually become tidal waves that crashed into one another, never having to be seperate ever again.