He said he would treat me like fine china.
And I told him
that was all fine and good
But one day I would not look like fine china.
I would look more like the old mug he drinks coffee out of every morning.
But then he took my hands
and pulled me in close
And said
That's even better.
Then every morning I can wrap my hands around your warm and familiar curves
and drink you in.
Every last drop.

Before I met you I thought addiction meant 6 cups of coffee a day.
But now I know it means just one.

I am sin forgive me not..
I am  sin burden my soul
I am sin through flesh and bone
criticize .but judge me not, cause
i am sin for im told..
So watch me age as thy grow
Through life of sin when time unfolds..
But i am sin so please love me not
Through the life i live your all i got..
For i am sin and nothing more.. And you are the bliss i long adored..

you used to hum the songs in my head
and only those songs remember us now.

I don’t like love, but I know Time reads Life magazine
and the heart is the advice columnist with love as its photographer.
I want to feel the days away, make them say the things
the world thinks, the words the night writes in black ink on headlines,
Mind the things big and little, look left and right when you cross the line.
People need light to help them, stretch their faces long in shadow.

It isn't music, really
not really
not the kind that you can
dance to
or sing words to
or hum along to

but maybe tap your foot
a bit to
or rock your shoulders
a little bit to
and sway your head
a little nod or two

It's more like rustling leaves
from pianissimo
to crescendo
above the tapping
drips of rain
in puddles circling
round the dangling feet
of waterspouts

and the trilling ring
a brassy bell delivers
swinging from the strike
of an opened door  
as dampened shoes
skip shuffle and slide
inside the musty lair
of an old bookstore

all measured by
the syncopated
clapping beat
of hooves
on cobblestone
in time with
carriage wheels
and drumbeat hoods
of rocking cabriolets

He paints from sound
that whistles in the wind
and freefalls from the sky
that bounces in the streets
and whispers to his eyes
that nestles in his pallet
and mixes in his dyes

It isn't music, really
not really
not the kind that you can
dance to
or sing words to
or hum along to

but maybe tap your foot
a bit to
or rock your shoulders
a little bit to
and sway your head
a little nod or two

when you see his aria
composed by strokes
from brushes
dipped in sound

one day
can we live in an old cottage
in the middle of an imaginary lake
a land made of clouds
where forests shade me
and the moon illuminates my way
where the sun shines almost as bright as your eyes
let me braid your hair
and hold your hand
allow me to show you around the skies
allow me to show you inside of my mind

please, may I hold your hand
and steal a kiss from your chapped lips?

you don't need a boy
to pick you up when you are down
you have yourself

don't drown yourself
when you know how to swim

stay awake until you are tired
do not force yourself to sleep, or to stay conscious

if someone asks you how your day was
don't lie and say it was good, if it was not
they asked because they care

do not fear the indifference you feel
you are not numb to the whole world and it will pass

don't do anything unless you want to
this goes for ***, school, work and love

nothing in this world comes above your health
if it means failing a test, losing a job, or ending a relationship
do what you must to withhold your wellbeing

all bad things in moderation can be good
moderation is key here

love is never to be feared, nor is it to be abused
love is to be taken when needed
and given back when necessary

nobody can tell you how to live or who to love
nobody but yourself

if that boy you like
asks to take you out on a drive at midnight
and you don't think you can go, do it anyway
but stay safe

face the consequences of all of your actions
with dignity and pride

it's Friday night and the week has been tough
don't give up now
take a sip of  your parents' rosé wine
coat your lips in rouge
and love yourself