She was in love
With old books.
She was in love with
The way they smelled
As she flipped the pages
And felt the air hit her face.
She was in love with
The rough texture
Of the paper worn over time.
She was in love with
The yellowed tint of the pages
And the crumple of water spots.
She was in love with
The broken and tattered
Binding that crinkled
When you touched it.
But most of all,
She was in love with
The stories that not only
The words written in them held
But the stories behind each
Coffee stain and torn corner.
The idea that this book
Had connected with
So many other people
Enchanted her,
And she wondered if
Maybe she wasn't as
Strange and odd
As people told her.
And she thought that just
Maybe she wasn't as
Alone as she felt.

There is beauty in the way she unravels herself to me.
How she plucks on the strings of her well-worn corset of flesh,
With fingers skimming over the buttons and hooks that made her once distant to me.
Stripping the clothes of Herself until she stands naked as a baby.
Placing her Trust in the cradle of my arms and her Heart in my hands.

There is beauty on how she self-destructs infront of me.
The prismatic glass pieces of her soul scattered like fallen snow
As I hammered through it with an ice pick of words, lies and promises to be kept.
Her tears ****** dry as the last falls down like a diamond discarded.

Why do you come here knowing what we've done,
Why do torture me dangling constant reminders of our forbidden fun,
My heaving chest betrays revealing dark memories burned into my skin,
I try to fight the heat you bring out in me afraid of what will happen if it wins,
Your lips were not meant for mine but their taste lingers still,
Your teeth sunk into me the memory is more potent than any pill,
I try hard to  concentrate on not noticing the intoxicating look in you eyes,
I know where this will lead and we promised that last kiss we cut all ties,
So why show up here again with  that all too yelling look in your eyes.

Old women know love
Better than the
Fifty-one shades
To color gray.

Old men know
As much about
Love as the
Fifty-one shades
Of our gray hair.

Peering through lashes at his form
He is more powerful than he gives himself credit for
His body is strong and lean
But his mind is stronger
Layered with complexity and intelligence

He is the first
The first to break through her rules of life
Logic becomes a distant memory
Years of experience
She is suddenly new, shiny and green

His mind like a magnet
His words an aphrodisiac
His touch..
His touch, her reason lost
She is in a new world

In his world
Each day she is high
She loves the feeling
Words become her rush
Love becomes a crutch

Eyes shut, judgement fades
Quivering she cannot control
He takes over her senses
Pushing deep to her soul
She loses herself

No words escape her lips
She is confused in a haze of euphoria
Her high unimaginable
Chocking with desire
She is lost in his love

But he is strong, stronger than her
He just doesn’t know it
Her mind crowded, her senses returned
Now crashing
Still lost , his love gone