You say you care, but you don't, that's why you're not here but there. You said you'd change but you won't. Every night since I was five I'd have to be on my own,I learned to keep myself alive since you assumed I was grown. Some nights I craved a mother but you were off doing God only knows what. So I sold myself to be loved by another, now they nicknamed me a ****. I've convinced everyone but myself that I'm alright. Sometimes I wish I had a dad  If I did, I wouldn't be out late at night. I wouldn't have gone mad. I remember a long time ago I was turning thirteen. Mommy had a boyfriend named Joe, she loved him even though he was mean. One night while she was gone, he snuck in my room and on top of me; whispered in my ear that he was turned on, forced my legs open and ravished in me mercilessly. I remember the smell of beer. It tainted his breath, infiltrated my nose when he came near. By fifteen I was begging for death. I tried to tell mom, I really did. But it was stupid of me to think She'd leave her man for the sake of her kid. So he stayed over another night to have a drink. Mom claimed she had to go somewhere She left me alone with the monster. Now I have blood stains in my underwear, it's all because of her I figured I'd never find love. Because somewhere up high
There were angels from above
Who just wanted me to die.
I'm a broken woman, I can't help who I am today or who I was then. So I bid you good day.

I see you walk down the road by the side the thin river flows, the wind caresses willows brewing with green and glow. You are holding her hands with love, sweet and tender, to be frank I got a jolt, at first, a ******- shot from a distance cold and lethal. I see you again holding each other tight bouncing ***** rubbing, kissing lips with warmth of caterpillars transforming into butterflies, a bliss of a heavenly moment for both of you, I recognized. Love doesn't have to be between a man and a woman, a girl and a guy, I realise. Love is timeless, love is unbound between two people, peerless, floating in the stratosphere far above the morbid ground.

With Love, Time is not
Nor space and distance matter
Ribboned passion in a knot
One loving heart tied with the other.
With Love, Age is not
Nor even Status break attraction
Kings give up thrones, and all of that
For his lady love's deep affection.
With Love, Race is not.
For Color fades in Cupid's arrow
It conquers all, no matter what
Blind to the sight is what lovers know.

Stay alive, soft, dark and dreamless
For beneath my nightmares and loneliness
I hate myself breathing without you.
I don't feel you anymore, I don't want to feel for you anymore.

To be truly be loved
To be truly cherished
To be sought after with such intent that there is no question of want

To be needed
To be thought of
To be lavished with sweet kisses
To be treated like a beautiful princess

To be left with a chill from your lingering touch of your finger tips on my skin
To be desired with true longing
To be the prey and you be the predator

To be truly loved, O' how sweet the thought.

She is
the book falling open to November,
sweet hidden wickedness of rhododendron,
her mouth a tuberose, pale.
*******.

She swells upon the eaves.
They touch at her thighs
to feel the texture of acrylics,
something frail, transitory,
beautiful.

She walks the beach in August,
sudden music out of nowhere,
houseflies and hypodermics,
the shadows that rustle
behind shower curtains.

Her need to be compelling is painful,
something purple and waxen,
a delicate blush.
Still, she writes the way
her body should look,

provocative, breathless,
stirring agony in its wake.

so often I start things and don't finish them
it's humiliating
i've learned to stop telling people I am doing things
but frequently i forget
and tell them I am doing something exciting
then I stop doing it,
when they ask me about it
I have to sheepishly tell them i'm not doing it,
or avoid the question entirely
finishing things
seems to be the main thing required
in getting things done,
yet so many of us, myself very much included,
start things and don't finish them:
books
paintings
education
diets
savings plans
marriages
we stop when it gets hard,
or when we doubt ourselves
and return to the place we were before,
the comfortable place
but doing this, this stopping, is what ***** up our lives,
all the stopping ruins our dreams
eventually we learn our lesson
we wake up and realise we don't have the things we wanted:
career success
too much money
a healthy body
somebody to love us
whatever you want,
and we realise we've done something wrong
that's when we change.
that's when we start things and stick to them:
when we're really ******* unhappy with our situation,
when we don't want to go back to where we were
when our only choice is to keep going.
that's when so we stop giving up on things
that's when we keep going,
when we are desperate to get away from our ****** situation
then we persevere
through all the pain, setbacks and difficulties
until one day, however many years away, we succeed.
Then the pattern starts all over again
we start something but quit
because we're too comfortable where we are.