It was two in the morning.
He sat so close to me,
There was no room to breathe.
His head rested on my shoulder,
His hand was lain over my thigh.
And we just sat there.
My heart was beating a mile a minute.
I wanted nothing more,
Than to be sitting there with him all night.
But then he kissed me.
It felt so different from anyone else.
He took my breath away...
I didn’t want it to end...
But the sun must show her face eventually.
After that night something changed.
Sure i liked him before,
But after that night,
He never left my mind.
I didn’t want anyone else,
But he did.
He didn’t want a relationship,
He just wanted the ****** things.
Like i was just there for his pleasure.
But i didn’t care.
It was three in the morning.
I fell asleep on the couch in an uncomfortable way.
Then he grabbed me and let me sleep on him. We laid there,
We cuddled,
We kissed.
I want him.
When I envision my future,
All i can see is him.
I can see him on our date.
I can see him at the end of the aisle in a tux,
Next to a preacher.
I can see him kissing my massive stomach that holds his daughter.
I can see us sitting on the front porch as an elderly couple.
When i think of the future,
I can see him..
I would die for him,
I would **** for him,
I would do everything in my power to make sure he is okay.
I would do anything for him.
But i don’t think he would do the same...
I love him...
And i hate it.
I’ve tried being in relationships.
But i can never give my all
Because most of me belongs to him.
My heart,
My body,
My soul.
I only want him,
And him i can’t have..
He doesn’t want me...

“You’re worth so much more”
“*** isn’t what everyone wants from you”
“You’re body isn’t the only reason guys like you”

If it isn’t,
Then please tell me,
Why every guy that talks to me
Winds up wanting to **** me?
I’ve been told all my life,
That it’s okay to say no.
That no means no.
But when it really comes down to it?
It’s really hard to say no.
Especially when everyone just wants to keep their ***** warm.
Selfish
Rude
Pure
*****
All of these things are things that I have been called
Because I said no.
I’m selfish because my body isn’t meant for just me,
It’s meant for every man that wants to touch it.
Rude because “no” is a violent word.
Pure because I must be untouched if I don’t want to *****.
***** because I’m no fun and keep it covered.
My worth is not determined by how many people want to **** me.
My worth is not determined by how my body makes others feel.
My worth is not determined by my body.
My worth is not determined by you.
So stop thinking it is.

Ladies,
It’s okay to say no.
Don’t let anyone touch your body that you don’t want.
Communicate with your significant other.
Tell them what you like,
Tell them what you don’t like.
And as cliche as it sounds,
No means no!
Because even though you might get called names,
Or told that you’re just being selfish,
It’s not true.
And if they say things like that to you,
Then they don’t respect you.
And why would you want someone who doesn’t respect you,
Find out what you look like underneath the clothes that armor you?

she was lain on my bed,
fully clothed,
and **** at the same time.
**** because I've seen her,
the true her.
**** because her smile was natural,
not forced.
her laugh was intoxicating,
her voice was addicting.
the simple touch of her hand,
brought fire among my skin.
I've seen her,
and never have I ever,
seen someone as beautiful as she.
she was lain on my bed,
and now it smells like her.
so now as I lay me down to sleep,
I hug my pillows and covers to me.

You know.
It's true what they say.
That once you fall asleep in the arms of your lover,
You can't sleep alone anymore.
Something doesn't feel right.
Something is always off.
The feel of her body,
Her warmth,
Her breath,
As she lays behind me,
Clutching on to my waist,
Is a feeling that gets you intoxicated just thinking about it.
Gets you high without realizing it.
You do that once,
You can't not do it again.
Because then you'll constantly feel alone.
In the dark.
Always thinking back to a time,
When she was lain behind you,
And when she held you close,
So close that you almost morph into one.
So now as I lay here,
Clutching onto a pillow that smells of her,
I keep hoping that this pillow,
Will turn into her,
So that I don't have to sleep alone tonight.

she's up on the
bathroom counter.
her head is tilted back.
lips slightly parted.
her back arched,
hands gripping the edge,
chest heaving,
heavily breathing,
my lips graze her collarbone.
leaving little bruises
down her neck.
making a trail down
her body.
my lips return to her lips.
my hands find their way to her waistline.
she and I are kissing
(the French would be proud)
my fingers delicately
touch her flower.
a moan escapes her lips
and into my mouth.
I gently rub her petals
until she starts to shake
she can't keep her mouth quiet.
her flower is dripping nectar
all down her stem
I smile and crouch down
to taste the nectar
oh, so sweet.

your eyes,
hungrily
look into mine
you slam me
up against
the wall.
your lips on my
collarbone.
your hands under my shirt
a craving
I can't be rid of
a need
I can not satisfy
a want
I can not have.
these thoughts consume me
every time I see you
I crave you
I need you
I want you
but I can't have you.

I'm a visitor,
in my own body.
just a mere soul
entrapped in
skin,
and flesh,
and bones.
but I never thought
that you would make
me feel that way.
you made me feel like
I didn't belong to myself.
you made me feel like
I belonged to you.
you did as you wanted.
you came and went as you
pleased.
you put your hands
on my body
when you were mad,
and when you were craving lust.
all I could say when asked was,
"He treats me as I deserve to be"
I'm a visitor
in my own body.
but you?
you had permanent residence.
until you lost interest
in what you saw
when you saw someone else.
I suddenly was not what you
wanted.
you no longer satisfied your
lust filled cravings with me.
but you kept me around for anger.
until I fond out you had someone else.
so you left me,
your broken toy,
and moved onto a new one
while calling me
a *****,
a *****,
a good-for-nothing cheater.
And Everyone Believed You

the house is burning.
its walls red-hot
from the flames.
the attic is first.
memories turned to ash,
all memories
except for one.
The Fire.
next is the rest of it.
the bedrooms are gone,
along with their
uniqueness.
its kitchen is gone.
why would it need to eat?
the house no longer belongs to itself.
it belongs to the
flames that consume it
everything is red.
that's all it knows now.
until the fire consumes it,
turning it into nothing but
ashes.

his hands were firm,
it felt like a rock
touching a flower.
his lips tasted like honey.
hot and heavy,
his body on mine.
slow and steady,
when he became a visitor.
soft and strong,
when he gripped onto my waist.
his lips were on mine,
our bodies were one.
now his lips are stained,
with the taste of my mouth.
his body is scarred from
mine being under his.
his mind is ruined
from the lies he tells
to his girlfriend.
he will always remember
the night he gave into his
Forbidden Temptation

I never, not once,
thought that I would be able
to do something
like that.
But the way his fingers
traced over my skin,
or how he leaned in and whispered
delicately, into my ear.
                          "You're Mine For Tonight"
His fingers traced
along my jawline
every time having a
different feeling
of security,
wilderness,
passion.
Maybe I liked him because
of the fact that he's never
been with a guy.
No other guy has ever
touched his perfect torso,
had their fingers tousled
in his hair.
No other guy has had him
how I have him right now.
He's naked
while being in clothes.
He's true
when he's lying.
My fingers grazed over
where the bullet left a scar
on his perfect chest.
I touched every ab
on his stomach.
Then traced the outline
of every vein on his arm,
his lips were luscious
and plump
and looked as if they tasted of
honey.
We're not supposed to be doing
things like this.
We are in a home for the crazies,
to get people like us off the streets.
We are here to keep people like
our parents,
safe from the true reality of
the world.
To keep people like our parents
unaware of the fact there are
people like us who don't want to live,
who crave the sight of a beaded line
on their arm or leg.
Who crave the drugs that make them
feel happy.
Who crave the life of a normal person
Who doesn't have to be the most popular guy
in school.
We don't exist in our parent's worlds.
We don't have a place there.
So they lock us up here.
Where we have unholy thoughts,
and an addiction to the taste of lead.
                     "Checks"
The nurse pulls me away from my thoughts.
What I wouldn't give for my dreams
to come true.
"Those checks sure can get to be really annoying.
"I know, but that's a requirement when you are deemed crazy."
I say.
There we were,
him sitting on my bed,
me sitting on my chair.
Both fully clothed.
Both unaware of our thoughts
towards each other.
But both aware,
that nothing will ever happen.

Her eyes were filled with fire,
And her heart was of gold.
Her body was filled with energy,
And love to her fingertips.
She smiled and dance,
Jumped around and laughed.
Her heart is so pure,
Nothing can harm her.
Unaware of the world before her.
She sees only the good in people,
And is passionate about everything she does.
She has a song in her soul,
That she is not afraid to dance along too,
Whether in nature or in private,
Her arms sway as she moves in rhythm to the beat.
She still has her innocence,
Pure,
Loving,
And kind to all living creatures.
She enjoys the world around her.
She still plucks weeds and gives them as if they're flowers.
She still lies back and watches the clouds.
Her mind is free,
And her body energetic.
Her love is unconditional,
And her soul is wild.

Look at her.
See her little cracks?
The ones that line her arms,
The ones on her back.
Her porcelain face,
With the saddest of eyes,
Where the missing pieces are,
She fills them as she cries.
The tears that fall,
She catches in a pail,
Putting them in her cracks,
Thinking she's failed.
One day a little porcelain boy found her,
Crying all alone,
Without any shelter,
So he picks up his phone,
And then he shatters himself.
As the pieces fall she crawls over to him,
He picks up his pieces and finds the ones to fill her cracks,
He aligns them all,
Each one filling her back.
But after he's finished,
She leaves him there,
With every little crack,
His body so bare.
He sits there alone,
Thinking about that little porcelain girl,
The one who he cared for,
The one who made his heart twirl.
One day she passes him,
In the same spot as where he healed her,
She gives him a small smile,
And then deters.
The little boy cries there,
All alone and silent,
Now knowing about,
How love can be so violent.

Suicide.
So permanent.
So painful.

Do you have siblings?
If so,
Then let's imagine this,
One night,
Everything gets too much to bare,
Your head goes psychotic,
Your body goes numb,
You take that rope and hang yourself.
The next morning,
You're siblings run into your room,
Wanting to wake you up for breakfast,
When they see you hanging there,
Blue lips,
Cold body,
Dead eyes.
Their screams are piercing.
Then your mother comes running in,
Leaving the eggs to burn,
As she sees you hanging,
She screams as she unties the rope,
And you fall lifeless into her arms.
Her screams and tears.
Your siblings grow more and more each year.
Always haunted with the image of your body.
Your younger sister?
She has started to self harm and has landed herself in the hospital.
Your brother?
He tried shooting himself through the heart but missed by a centimeter.
Your mother?
She killed herself.
Leaving your siblings to the care of your father.

Do you live alone?
If so,
Let's imagine this,
You miss work for an entire week.
No call no show,
Which is totally out of character for you.
None of your family has heard from you.
You missed your weekly call with your mother.
Your best friend hasn't heard from you all week.
You missed your rent.
So your best friend (who has a key)
Enters your house/apartment,
And they see you laying on the bathroom floor,
In a week old puddle of blood,
Flies all over you,
Your body reeks of death,
The blade is laying right beside you on the floor.
Your best friend collapses,
Hand over mouth,
Loss of breath,
Unable to move.
They try calling 911,
But their hands are way to shaky.
So they scream as loud as possible,
While cradling your dead body.
And after a week of thinking it was their fault,
That they should've seen it,
That they could've done something,
They take a gun and pull the trigger.

An only child?
If so,
Let's imagine this,
Your parents are asleep,
Your dog is in your room,
But the dog is whining so loud,
Your mom tells your father to go check on the dog,
So he gets up,
Barely awake,
Locates the sound of the dog,
And opens your door,
Seeing your dead body.
His eyes go wide,
He screams for your mother to call an ambulance,
He grabs your body,
Cradling you,
Pushing the hair out of your face,
And telling himself that it was his fault.
That he was the reason for it all.
That he should've stopped it.
That he shouldn't have gone to sleep.
He starts drinking away his pain,
But he becomes an abusive drunk,
And starts beating your mother.
Until she files for divorce and split.
Your father ends up homeless and a drunk,
Your mother ends up dead in a year.

Are you being abused?
If so,
Let's imagine this,
Your abusers wind up finding you dead,
Not that big of a deal,
They knew it would happen,
But they didn't know that you could do something like this,
They end up charged with first degree manslaughter.
But that school you went to?
Yeah,
That person you played with at recess in elementary,
They knew about the abuse,
They knew about the depression,
And they blame themselves.
And then they end up self harming.
Until they end up accidentally killing themselves.
Your teachers?
Yeah,
Your favorite teacher that saw the bruises,
But did nothing about it,
Just got fired for slacking off.
And your other teachers?
They retired because they couldn't even look at where you used to sit,
Without breaking down,
They all cared.
That person who had a secret crush on you was heartbroken.
Your friends all cared.
Your teachers cared.

No matter what,
Everyone has a purpose.
No one deserves death.
No one desereves the pain of wanting to die,
Suicide stops your pain,
By transferring it to someone else.
It kills two people.

She had the sun in her hands,
The moon in her heart,
A sparkle in her eyes,
And gold in her arms.
The sun once left her
The moon abandoned her,
The sparkle was a dim light,
And she had gold
pouring out of her arms.
The gold was a mesmerizing glow,
It sparkled in the light,
Such a beauty,
She should never know.
The happiness in her mind,
Left.
And was replaced by depression,
And she never understood it.
The song she sings,
While baking cookies,
Turned into silence,
And the quiet.
The gold was leaving her body,
Much more now,
Every night.
Until,
One day the moon was in her heart again,
The sun returned to her hands,
The sparkle shone brighter than before,
And her musical cookies returned,
Once more.
She was a rare girl,
For she had a secret,
Nobody knew,
She was he girl with gold in her arms,
And only thin white lines,
On her arm to prove.

and every time I look at you,
all I see is poetry.
just more words on a page,
about love and hate,
heartbreak and loss.
I'm sick of looking at you
as just words,
I'd rather see you as a person
with flesh and blood
not lines and rips.
you're damaged,
hurt,
and every time I see you it's
a different poem,
a different line,
a different verse.
and it's gonna **** you.
because your page will rip,
more and more,
until it eventually falls off.
the words becoming
more and more prominent,
losing structure,
and sound.
until it's all silence.
and my dear,
silence is the most deafening
kind of poetry.

A magical being,
Walked this earth,
The simple touch of thee hem of his dress,
Could heal all sickness,
Cure all blindness,
And bless all sinners.
*******.
How is it possible,
The first two humans who ever walked this earth,
Were Adam and Eve,
When we have cave paintings,
From much, much earlier,
Than Adam and Eve.
How come Christianity and Catholicism traits,
Are found from many different religions?
Plus, not to mention,
The fact that Christianity is one of the most recent religions.
If we are all siblings under God,
Then that would be a lot of ******.
We would all be ****** up.
Oh wait,
We are.
We have depression,
Suicide,
Anxiety,
Starving countries,
Deadly storms,
Tsunamis,
Hurricanes,
Tornadoes,
Cancer,
Disease,
We need to start asking ourselves,
Is there really a “god”?
And if so,
How good can he be?

Out by the glades,
They run side by side,
Both a victim,
Of suicide.
They used the same blade,
Laying under the tree of sugar plums.
Both her then him,
Until they fell numb.
How did it come to this?
Well, she had terminal cancer.
Her smile was fake,
And she was no dancer.
Then he told her of his and they wanted to eternally be together.
So their lives they would take,
Under the sugar plum tree
Where they first met each other.
~
The day was grey,
The sun was gone,
She found shelter under the tree,
**** he too had gone there,
And each other they did not see.
She sat there shivering,
Where he heard her breathe,
And gave her a jacket,
From him to she.
~
Now there they lay,
Under the same tree,
Hearts giving up,
Finally able to see,
The people they were truly meant to be.
~
After three years,
Their death had died down,
But now they say,
If you stand beneath the tree,
You'll find them swinging on branches,
Meant to be.

She walks the halls,
Head held high.
Everybody hates her,
I don't understand why.
She is full of beauty,
Inside and out,
She tries hard to keep everyone happy,
Excluding herself.
A huge argument arose,
Sitting at the lunch table,
She runs off down the hall,
And I follow her,
When she realized I was there,
She turned around,
In tears,
And said,
"Why does everyone hate me?
I never meant to hurt anyone.
I tried cutting myself.
I took a handful of sleeping pills.
I always look happy,
But I'm depressed.
Smoking was the only thing,
Making me feel normal."
I didn't know what to say,
She has broken,
Her tears prove that,
This happy and beautiful girl,
Turned out to be depressed.
I promised her I am always here,
I promised myself I will help pick up her broken pieces.
Her mask is gone,
The veil is up.
I know what she hides,
And it's messed up.

A man once approached a young girl,
She was 9 years old,
The man knelt down and handed her a flower,
"I will always be here for you," he says with a grin,
The little girl smiles her little girl grin.

The man approached her once again,
She was 13 years old,
Scared of being a disappointment
Feeling anxious,
The man walked over to the girl and took her hand,
"I will always be here for you," he said from deep within.
She smiled her happy grin.

A different man approached her,
She was 16 years old,
And dancing in her room,
He took her by the hand and grabbed her waist,
Leading her in a romantic dance,
"Just follow me, to feel romance," he said smirking,
She smiled an uncertain smile.

The devil approached her,
But he's visited her once before,
Leading her in a dance,
But left her heart tore,
She walked around with her devilish grin,
Breaking every guy's heart,
Not caring about within.

The strange man she met at 9,
Walked over to her and took her hand,
But the devil came as well and grabbed her other one,
Each one pulling hard until the man let go,
"I'm not fighting. For I am the Almighty. You must choose," he said,
The girl yanked her hand out of both of theirs,
The devil whispered in her ear,
"You can't fight this storm,"
The girl smirked and whispered in the devil's ear,
"I AM the storm," she said.
So she walks with God and
Dances with the devil,
Proving she is a storm with power.

Posters
Of smiling kids
Fancy clocks
Cleaned floors
Visitors come and go
Thinking highly
Enjoying the atmosphere
It's all an
ILLUSION
Kids smile
But not with their eyes
Clocks are just countdowns
Until we leave this hell
Visitors are lied too
Atmosphere is dark
Air is heavy
Creativity is dying
The girl good at art
Was told to focus on math
The boy good at singing
Was told to do sports
The teacher with uniqueness
Was told to follow the books.
Because this is a
Grade A school
Come back again
We will **** your child
Mentally.

Hair pulled back,
Makeup at it's peak,
Now tell me girl,
Are you weak?
I've seen your pretty smile,
But it doesn't reach your eyes,
Although you look happy,
Your eyes can't tell lies.
Now tell me pretty girl
In the front of the room
Who is it,
That makes you feel gloom?
Is it your friends,
Who are pretty,
Perfect,
And fake?
Please tell me girl,
Because I know how you feel,
How it is
Being the third wheel.
The extra
The unwanted.
And those feelings,
Are haunted.
I'm here for you,
Please don't lie.
It's sad to see happy faces with sad eyes.

She gave him a kiss,
And he took her heart,
She knew he would care for it,
But alas,
He did not.
He ignored her for weeks,
No call at all.
But she still loved him.
The heart wasn't enough for him,
So he started taking pieces of her.
But she still loved him.
He slept with another girl,
In the bed they shared.
But she still loved him.
He raised his hand at her,
Leaving her in despair.
But she still loved him.
He paraded his new girl,
In front of her.
But she still loved him.
He became her bully,
Always taunting her.
But she still loved him.
She committed suicide,
Tying her noose to tight.
But HE still loved HER.

A wilted rose.
It's color fading away.
Fighting for it's life.
Fighting to stay.
Watching people pass on by,
Not giving it a glance.
Wishing and hoping,
Someone will give it a chance.
A chance to prove itself,
A chance to be true.
But who would want a wilted rose.
Not many, not even a few.
Watching life go by,
In a shop's window.
No one wants it.
Not even the widow.
The shop keeper comes,
And takes it away.
Knowing very much,
It's not going to stay.
In the garbage she goes,
Beginning to decay.

I sat bewildered by the shadow above me,
His tall, muscular figure overpowered my small, petite one.
I rose to hold my ground.
My chest puffed out,
Hand in a fist,
My face with a sharp expression.
He lifted his hand and smacked me as hard as he could.
It hurt like hell and I wanted to cry.
I wanted to go sit in a corner and be done.
But I didn't.
I looked him dead in the eye.
I called him by his first name.
He let down his guard for a second,
With a look of hurt.
But it was only a second until he grabbed the nearest bottle,
And broke it.
~
(Reporter)
A man was arrested in the early hours of the morning for the ****** of his daughter. Police say he has had a history of abuse towards her. The daughter was 16 years old. Taking her final breaths at 8:02 p.m. Her untimely death was caused by being stabbed 20 times with a broken bottle.