Blood on my hands and ink on my wrists and your fingers tangled in the telephone wire and I am falling, falling, fallen

teenage lust in the form of him helping you undress,
but not lifting a finger to help you re-clothe.

teenage lust in the form of his hands navigating the galaxy of your skin, but straying from the black hole that is your mind.

teenage lust in the form of learning pluto isn't a planet
even after believing it was for so long.

teenage lust in the form of her experiencing
that of an event horizon
while he's orbiting other planets.

teenage lust,
you don't touch my soul.

(NJ2015) All Rights Reserved.

Holding his hand was like a prayer
and when we kissed I finally saw God
but no amount of getting on my knees could stop Hell from clutching it's burning hands to my throat and no volume of screaming could lead to my salvation.

I tell myself it must have been the devil telling him to love her
instead of me,  
but that won't change the fact that you never were my Heaven.

I sat in front of you with tears streaming down my face. I knew at this moment, it was over between the two of us.

All I wanted from you was to acknowledge that you hurt me and that you were sorry for breaking me.

But all you said to me was, “If it wasn’t me to hurt you, it would have been someone else.”

With a nervous grip, the girl picks up the paintbrush;
She glances at this boy's life, a blank canvas that gives her a rush.

She asks his favorite color; he says it is always baby blue.
So she listens to his preferences and across the canvas the paintbrush flew.

When she looks at the monochrome array, she holds such disdain
For she is an artist who cannot stick to such colors mundane.

Eventually she pulls away from the baby blues,
And gives him vibrant colors and vivid hues.

She fills his world with a colorful glow,
And puts her heart and soul into giving him a rainbow.