They are made of stars. Made of celestial beings, ever-present and never failing to make people gape at them in awe. There’s that unwavering need - itching under my skin - of desire to be selfish. To linger my hands on their flawed, moonlit skin. To be able to cup their heavenly face, to be able to peer into their starry eyes up close; I have never kissed a constellation but I would very much like to. Maybe my love for them is planetary and astronomical and maybe all I can do is orbit around them

Swallow tearless tears
No subject to be grieving
Enigmatic form

I can still feel the way your arms wrapped around my waist as you hugged me in the kitchen looking down at me with the biggest smile on your face
But- I can also recall the feeling of how cold it was when you pulled them away so your friends wouldn't see us.
I wondered why you were ashamed of us
But- now I realize that you were just scared of being in love.

the night we kissed
you told me not to tempt you
but how could i?
knowing you wanted me just as badly

so why are you pulling away from me?

The best
poetry
floods through
the writer’s pen,

A wildfire of shooting stars
across papery rows
of crisp oat fields

The most delicious
imbue the reader
down crowny heads
out waltzing feet,

A lyrical nectar
ejecting the soul
into the stratosphere

You said it first
and showed it first
and took it away
Ruining the most beautiful parts
the most tender parts
the most sacred parts
of Us

You saw me sitting vulnerably
and you took your strong
yet deceptive hand
and plunged it deep within me
You found my heart
and kept it as your own
making me believe you were keeping it safe
but quickly I discovered
you took it to destroy it
and add my heart
to your collection
of broken women

You broke me
and left me with an insatiable need
to be further wanted
and further tormented
Now I sit here
2 years later
At 3 a.m.
and I still crave
Your Love