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I wont be your cigarette
you wont have me and be done
but I will be your sack of ****
get you higher than the sun

I wont be that **** you flick away and run
but I will be that line that gets you by
and you will do me twice just for fun

I will have you sweating
I will have you begging
you can call me molly
then we will have our wedding

garage, sundress , open bottles I can confess
broken smiles, sad sleeps, I will be your worst dream
you wont puff puff and be done
you wont pass because you will want me till there is none
I will be your sweet addiction
I will be your lovely conviction

I will be the reason your prescription gets written
The last taste on your lips
the sun will forget
but I wont be your cigarette.
Fingers locked
     in female hands
a riddle
   like legs     free of clothes
   crumpled jumpers
     in a corner
resembling a salad
of what-the-hell-went-on
last night   greeny-reds.

   Dolled up
bees' knees
     next time
not a person to     impress
or   dazzle   with a fedora
   top-shelf aftershave
charcoal-black shoes
gobbling     this week's wages.

Miss your     mouth
                              completely
see if you   tick
the thirty-one boxes
     know nail polish
     birthdays
better than second-hand
lips   and teeth   and tongues
   and lips
stash wit in a drawer
humour   under the bed.

Spot the odd   one   out
like finding a disease
     in a bloodstream
always observe
     an   owl   in the room
   watch others hurl feelings
I miss   you's   about
gobbledygook
resort to stories
     only your pillow knows
they want the     fire
not a                           lonely snowman.
Written: August 2014.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time, somewhat personal. For the record, '******' is my least favourite word, and I despise it when used as an insult. This poem could be a little stronger, so edits are possible. Feedback welcome as always.
there are city streets I have not paraded down
and stars I have not kissed beneath
there are bridges to be crossed
and burned
elevator buttons to push and flights of stairs to climb

I have a thirst to see the world
I want to scrape the corners for every last taste
I want to awake in a city I don’t belong in,
but I have potential

sometimes I think about how much time I wasted on you
wanting to be labeled as “Yours”
how silly of me to forget
what the world is holding for me outside of your arms
we often mistake spaces for emptiness
when we are powerless
when we are boundless

we often don't realise
these spaces aren't empty
and we can be anything
we have a finite life
with infinite choices

so that's why these spaces are blank;
the vacancy awaits to be occupied
you come walking back into my life
with grace, as I stumble around looking
for the right words that will sum up
these dusty butterflies
who are permanent
in my lungs.

how is it possible
that a hurricane like you
can cause so much trouble
when the flowers just begin to grow,
when the wind returns to the willows,
as soon as happiness finds its way
into my body, you are dancing somewhere
in my subconscious
he dove in first,
and the blue hugged his hips like a blanket underwater.
it thanked him, blessing his body with its tongue,
as if he was its reason in being blue.
I followed him, only seconds later –
left my conscience with my clothes on the brink of the pool,
joining him in the middle of the deep end.
the water enveloped our bodies, and wrapped him
in its own set of linens, kissing him goodnight and
laying him down to rest.
I watched, as it swallowed him whole. it filled our bones with whispers.
I felt his fingers tug at my toes, and I let my body sink
down to the point where my ears popped
and my joints dislocated, underneath the surface
of the swimming pool.
the hum of the filter sang its own song, echoing from the surface down,
releasing some of the pressure that had built up on my freckled shoulders.
I matched my soul to his, and tried to reassure myself
that even though it was after midnight,
the promise of the day still lingered on our sun-spotted skin.
as rain pelted the top of the water,
it shattered the reflection the moon had created on the glass.
I tried to find your heart in the deep murk,
but unable to find mine first – I sank.
I rarely get on Facebook anymore. But when I do, I'll change my profile picture or banner-- maybe post a witty status update, maybe not witty, just something to let people know I'm alive.

It's like repositioning the arms on a stationary mannequin to depict a different scene. Except lately I just don't care anymore. It's just that-- a mannequin. An object, an image, a lifeless entity with which I used to feel real-- a dusty mirror.

I see that the line between the idea of a person and the reality is being blurred and crossing over into something all-together different. It's as if people are starting to wake up and realize the objectivity of their reality. But that brings into question the basis for which we define reality.

We have become a, “Look but don't touch” society in which we click a button to show our appreciation as opposed to genuinely reciprocating human emotion and energy. It is extremely isolating and dangerous.

Packed subways and sidewalks have fallen eerily silent with faces illuminated by their cellphones. Most everyone wants to be heard, appreciated and recognized and social media has provided an outlet for that.

But there comes a point at which your platform becomes your prison and your voice your warden-- and everything you say is modified to be pleasing to the ear and 'likeable'.

But I like dislikes. And if you're not ******* anyone off-- you're probably not doing anything important, and if you're not outraged you're not paying attention.
I hope she was worth
The pain you put me through
I hope she can hold you closer
Than when I wrapped my soul around you
I hope she can make you smile brighter
Than when I made you laugh
I hope she can sing to you sweeter
Than when I sung your name
I hope her words have more meaning
Than when I said “I love you - always and forever”
I hope that she never makes you feel pain
The way you claim I made you endure
I hope when you see her –
She’s all that you want to see
I hope she was worth it
I hope she was worth all the tears
That I shed for you
After you left me for her
****. I hate this.
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