Teach my nerve endings to breathe,
That it doesn't always have to be
Static shouts from one anxiety
To another.

Teach me to set my palm on my chest,
That the warmth that fills my body
Can be enough.

Teach me that it's okay to whisper,
That I shouldn't have to scream
To be noticed,
To be loved.

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's easy to romanticize vampiric love,
The kind that eats at your flesh,
The kind that drives you wild with anticipation and hunger.

But somewhere in your midnight,
Love shouldn't break your skin;
Love should walk you home.

It's in the shake of my hands
In the tangle of fingers
It's the smudged mascara under my eyes
It's there