When I was 6, I never doubted that everything would turn out okay. Bad things happened to bad people and that was the only logic my brain could fathom.
When I turned 7, my mother mistakenly punished me for something my brother did.
I guess it started there.

There are some places that can't be touched and there are some places that can't be kissed and there are some places that need to be kissed and some of those places haven't been discovered. I'm a handbook. *** is like drivers ed. Am I crying, or shaking from pleasure? *****. Sometimes hands are there that aren't really. Sometimes fare fine linen fingers feel like brown bony paws that don't listen to "let go".
**** me. Even when my eyes get glossy and you're wondering if I'm still there. I'm there. Grab me. *** isn't always this way.

Sometimes I'm in charge, but it isn't freaky. Don't call me a freak, call me lovely. I can **** **** ****, but don't whisper that it's *****; it isn't "*****". Sweating and running make-up. Heavy breathing. Wheres my body, wheres my mind? Don't call it nasty. It's not "nasty". Grabbing, groping, grinding; it isn't lewd. Don't call me a ****.
Touch me and remind me that I'm pleasing. Touch me and remind me that there's only me. Touch me and enjoy it. Enjoy me.
I want the lights on. I want the lights off. I want you you you.

*** isn't always this way; sometimes I'm in charge.

She breathes her words more than she says them. They come out in a sigh or yawn or a whisper. And stars fall off of her tongue in galaxy formation, spinning and dancing and worshiping their sun. I blush when I see her shoulders and I blush when I see her smile and I blush when I hear her breathe anything into my ear

We're whispering now because it's late. The sleepier her voice, the quieter it gets. Is it safe now to say all the words that wait at the pit of my stomach to lunge at my throat when you sleepily whisper "goodnight liz". All the words that don't yet make sense and even some without much reason. Fluttering with the wings of my nervous butterfly's, jumbling every good thing I've ever thought to say.
Does she even want to hear?
Would it scare her away?
Am I just anxiety stricken with a low self esteem?
But does she maybe wish to say them as well? (Hm)
I can feel the hair raising all over my body. My mouth drying. My heart beating.
And ****, I've got nothing. Nothing but the sound of her fan squeaking and the hum hum hum she makes before she drifts off.

Feel free to rip open the threads of my heart as if it where a woven band, as long as you regret the foul sound of undoing something beautiful, the sound of ripping, the sound of heartbreak.

Feel free to tear me to peices with your words and even your fingers as they pull my hair to the ground out of anger, but only if you fall with me and your tears when you see that i'm such a beautiful soul when thrown to the floor.

Please lie and say that Im the only thing your heart and soul and mind ever needed. I'm captivating whilst filling the holes that your father punched in your walls and your face and your mother. Lie and lie and lie, it's okay. As long as your heart sinks to your feet when I walk away and leave you alone with the other girls that were also, all you ever needed.

Eat from my vines and pick my flowers and use and abuse me; we're only human.
But I dare you to walk away from my body, mangled from your hands, unscarred and remorseless. I'll rise stronger than before I'd fallen and I promise your scars won't be the kind that fade.

Your mere voice has my fingers itching for a strand of your hair
The size of your thighs or arms or heart, nothing can make you less desirable
Can you hear the anxiety in my voice while trying to explain?
It's like a raindrop reminding the rainbow of its importance
"You've got talent and purpose, and beauty" it says. "Beauty on top of beauty, but more importantly, you've made me smile and you're the sunlight after a storm, even when I'm the raindrops."

I am the storm.
I forget that, that is ok. It's ok to be the rain somedays.
Rainbows are never more beautiful, than after a long dreary night of raindrops.

Positively living in the happiest state of mind is exhausting. Don't forget to eat and brush your teeth and get out of bed. Dance in the morning and rise with the sun and fall asleep as soon as you get sleepy. Eat fruits and vegetables and walk your dog. Don't forget anything because happiness stems from perfection. Don't forget to be perfect and make sure everyone knows that you are. No one can help you, happiness comes from within. Love yourself and befriend the mirror. Don't let your mind think on it's own accord. You aren't allowed to feel the things that make you cry.