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complete absence of sound 

Sometimes silence can be the most empowering kind of love,
and not a silence you wish to end,
but instead, a silence you hope lasts,
lasting long enough to enjoy all the best parts of him -- 

the missed heart beats when you rest your head upon his chest
and he pulls you close,

or maybe the quiet giggle that escapes his lips
when you press yours to the outer corner of his smile,
along his jawline,
to his cheek
and down to his neck,

only stopping to let your eyes meet his before closing the space 
between you. 

A silence that’s familiar, 
as you listen to the rain outside his window 
and feel the cool breeze making a home within his walls. 

However, the only thing creating shivers across your skin,
being his touch,
and him kissing a trail down your body,
often a finger tip moving ever so slightly up and down the length of your arm. 

Sometimes silence is often the most beautiful way of expression,
as you sit between his legs 
and feel the way his hands explore the depths of your back,
and as he pulls your shirt higher to expose more of your skin,

you find yourself craving his lips on your body 
and as if reading your mind --

he holds you really tight,
brushes aside your hair and places his lips to your neck.
And even in the silence,
you allow for a small gasp to escape the lips
you held between your teeth. 

He’ll move himself to face you, 
wrap his arms around the small of your back 
and place his lips to yours,
kissing you,
like it was the first time --

all over again. 

And sometimes even silence needs to be broken, to allow for I love you.
(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

Often, the thought of him will cloud her head,
the what if’s
and often enough, the thought of maybe she wasn’t good enough
will take it’s turn,
tugging on her brain.

She could recall the exact moment she caught herself
falling for him,
a thought that never seemed scary to her before,
but in the moment,
she was the most terrified that she’d ever been.

You see,
love was never a thing that she saw for herself
especially when it came to him.
Romance was the last thing on her mind when he
was around.

She could remember all the rose golds and
hearts around Valentine’s Day,
her favorite heart shaped candies
that boys would give out,
a simple “be mine” that changed a girl’s life.

A flavor that wasn’t ever nice to eat,
but somehow,
the fact that is was given by a boy
made all the difference
of how chalky it really tasted.

So when he walked in with his deep
brown hair,
she imagined herself swimming in the pools of
chocolate that occupied
his manipulative eye sockets.

Eyes that had stared into her soul a
million times before,
but for some reason,
this time felt different
and she couldn’t quite tell why,

but it had to do with the fact she had seen
what those eyes really look like,
when you’re alone in the dark
and there’s no one around,
left to impress.

She felt shivers,
and she knew that with every bat of an eyelash,
he was slowly
throwing aside her shirt once more,
and leaving her vulnerable once again.

A manipulation that she’s sure other girls have witnessed,
because she knows she wasn’t the first,
and she certainly wouldn’t be the last
to rest her head upon his pillow,
and moan out in pleasure.

The walls seemed to cave in around them
and she could feel her body go lifeless,
trying to get deeper
and feel every possible warmth
from the boy who swore he loved her.

And she said she loved him too,
even with knowing the true risks of getting involved with him,
but one thing she never thought
she’d witness from him,

Because after all,
most things are better when you keep them
to yourself,
especially telling a boy you love him too,
when he never said “I love you.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for what
lie in front of her,
a sight she hadn’t grown fond of.

A face,
nearly scarred from the time it
laid in the hands of another.

Poorly treated once before,
unfortunately all to familiar with the rough touch of a lover.

One who is supposed to guard
and protect you,
is soon the one to turn
and beat you to the ground.

A fear she had kept hidden inside,
not wanting anyone to know the truth
behind her brown eyes.
Glazed over
and protected by a thick black line,
to make her feel pretty.
Even though with one swift move,
he made her feel like the ugliest
person to breathe in the oxygen
that he share.

And soon she knew,
that in her hands lie a mirror

and the face she seeks,

was her very own;
staring back at her.
we all have secrets, let me share one.
Glazed over eyes,
ice on an old winter road.
She waited for bittersweet wind
to pierce through her skin
like the icicles hanging from the porch
where she lay.
You are loved. Even if you feel that you aren't, you are.
Skinny Love
(n.) when two people love each other, but are too shy to admit it, yet they show it anyway

Your eyes trail down the endless miles
of my scarred pale canvas.
Untouched for quite some time,

unwanted -

by all that came in contact.
Yet, your hands wander
and explore all the possible depths.

A shaky hand,
tracing patterns up my spine,
lingering longer on the ink
claiming a home within my shoulder blade.

A longing gaze meets mine,
and with every breath taken,
goosebumps replace my smooth skin.

And I swear I’ve felt this way before.

But something about this is different,
for both of us.
So I’ll take one more flight
just before you grab hold

of the angel in my heart,

and rip me right back down to hell with you.
I can’t bring myself to tell you how I really feel,
like a friend
instead of your lover.
A friend that benefits you when in need,
feeling pleasures you can’t feel on your own --

because it’s never the same as the touch of the one you fancy.

Making me think you’re interested,
only to ditch me when I really need you.
Pulling on the strings that keep my heart bound --
a heart that I would’ve killed to let you have.
But I got too close,

and now you don’t want it anymore.

But instead of telling me the truth,
you’ll string me along,
let things go unsaid,
and watch as I slowly fall apart in front of you.
Then, and only then,

will you let me hurt,

throw me into the ground and
laugh as cuts and scrapes are made
because it’s not your fault,
and it never is your fault,
that I fell for the same boy who broke me --

time and time again.

Without any signs of disgust,
I’ll believe that you can’t live without me,
that you’ll never be the same,
that you’re hurting too,
maybe not as much as me

or maybe not at all.

You’ll tell me that it wasn’t my fault
that you lost interest,
that things just happen for a reason,
that we weren’t meant for second chances,
or thirds.

I never wanted to hate you --

feel a raging fire inside of me,
whenever I see you.
With nothing left to say to you,
I’ll hold my head up high
and keep my gaze away from you.

I’ll let you push me away.

Everyone told me I could do better,
that you didn’t deserve my time,
but I never believed them,
in hope that something good would come from this
but reliving the past

is never something to do.
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