I want to feel like your warmth on my skin is enough. That every move you make is all consuming and as I wish intimacy was something I'm good at, it's not. So I sway the thoughts away in my mind like I sway my hips and I wish I could give someone some sort of bliss but the blisters on my memory keep busting and everything I never wanted to feel again pours it's way out and paints the crevices of my mind.
I want to feel special. Like every move I make is something to you. Like the waves that beg to kiss high tide like my tiger stripes beg to kiss my thighs. Maybe my mind is just poison. Maybe the pistol to my throat at a young age set in stone that I'm nothing but a grave stone amongst a growing garden of birth and new beginnings that will never be me. I am always the shell casing of who I wish to be and no matter how much I think I am pushing towards something, I am always holding myself back. I step into the spotlight only to be over shadowed by my own guilt and denial of what I should already be well aware of. I'm not sure this makes sense anymore.
And I am sure that these poems are just eulogies someone will read at my funeral or words that will paint and pour over my obituary. I haven't been the same since that February, the one when I lost my happy and gained a whole new chapter of my life I feel like I didn't even write, that feels like just an added story to make things more complicated for me and more interesting for everyone else. We all feed of off the misery and the interesting, we cling to the things that are a mystery to us because drama is in our nature and nuture never had anything to do with the way I was brought up. It was all mere circumstance because if my parents had it any other way they would've tried to raise me. But instead my father raised glasses and instead my mother raised prices and work and ***** got in the way of new gym shoes and admiration.
I'm not sure I feel anything anymore. And these doors to my future hold a lock I do not yet have a key for. But that doesn't mean I'll stop looking. That doesn't mean there's nothing behind those doors.
I'm living, to live for more.

I'm a patient devil
it's been years
since my malignant gaze
first fell upon you
years
that were spent honing my edge
breathing smoke
drinking fire
waiting for time to cross our paths
more meaningfully
wading through waves
of temporary lovers
until now
I've reached the shore
on the other side
finally
I've reached
you
sharp
with intentions
both pure and impure
I won't let you slip from my grasp
easily
I've waited too long
I require recompense of some sort
for biding my time
so well
if this won't last
I want to be sure
I want to leave it beaten
and bloodied
on the ground behind us
if our roads diverge again
so let's sink our teeth in
our nails
let's be sure

I was your Hazel Grace
Because I thought I was a grenade

I was in my final year in high school when I started liking you
And soon I would leave the same school we were into

I, and the people around us
We became dependent of your actions
And you made us believe that you liked me, too

So much depends upon this boy I really liked
behind his eye glasses were his eyes that had
always been sending me love letters
that I always wanted to reciprocate
his stunning smile made him look grand every time

So much depends upon this rebel heart
that I was ironically obedient to
Because not granting what this heart wanted
would **** me a hundred times

Until the day came that I needed to leave you
I thought leaving would hurt harder than a heart break
But you were the one who left
And that was when I started believing
that I was not the grenade I once thought I would be
but it was you

*You left me wounded

"Love has a ring to
it, and it looks great
on your beautiful finger."

I wish I could voluntarily turn off my senses.
So I won’t be able to feel pain,
to taste the bitterness,
to smell the foul rumors,
to hear the unwanted opinions,
And to see the one I love
with someone else.