He cocked his head, looked down at me curled up in his arms, vulnerable, I'd imagine he'd see me as, and parted his lips to let out a string of words tied to a sigh.

"What is your favorite memory?"  He spoke, the words dripping off his tongue and slipping down my face, creeping into my mouth, coating the insides of my lungs I no longer breathed from.

I wanted to say this one; The one where I bled to death in his arms, and I finally felt the sting of his tears he no longer had to hide.

I slide myself between her tenderness.
She trembled from the embrace.
Her shivers soon tamed.
The pain of a pinch,
She's feeling it inside.
Unimaginable pleasures,
refrained from the release.
Nails tearing at my flesh,
her fingers grip, digging deep.
Sensations of pleasure eclipse reality.
Ravenous passions,
we consume; selfishly.
Tension building,
unbearable pressure;
relentlessly .
Her emotions
Eruptions; uncontrollably,
repetitively.
I'm giving her,
the best of me.

I have never been very good at this
I have never been good at
Trusting

Pull my hair
Kiss me again

You aren't in love with me
But you love the way I feel
At night
Our sweat clinging to our foreheads

I want to just gaze in your eyes
And watch them twinkle
While I make you feel
Good
About yourself

About your smile
And about your laugh
About your whispers
And gentle caresses

Your the one who stays up with me
Even though we both
needed to be asleep hours ago

The one who dances with me
when I'm not feeling like breathing
And makes me remember how to live

You aren't in love with me
But you love how I feel
With my lips on your neck
And your hands on my hips
As our bodies move

I want to hold your hand
While you struggle through life
And pat you on your back
When you make it out alive

I never want to lose you

I never want to lose
The feeling of your smile
As you try to kiss me

Or your hands
guiding me through the motions

No, you aren't in love with me
But I know you love me

The Insecurities are flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind—
But the weeds keep growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
—Thoughts of a young child never knowing what to believe.

I lie awake in bed at night staring at the ceiling.
If only the notion could suffice in finding the words—
For the void I'm feeling in my life,
But it isn't simple.

Pure corruption of my mind,
Perfect pictures,
Flawless figures,
The images I can't erase.
Uncomfortable in my own skin—
What do I do to feel safe?

Do I drown myself in ink—to cover up the imperfections?
Instead of talking—walk and let my skin scream the self-expression?

Or do I return to the blank stare in the mirror?
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?

The insecurities keep flourishing.
A gorgeous garden was my mind,
But the weeds kept growing in.
Media like kryptonite—weakening my self esteem.
Thoughts of a young child,
--Never knowing what to believe.

One night as I lie awake—I hear my subconscious scream out to me.
The most attractive people do the ugliest of things,
The true beauty you want is what’s imprisoned within.
Why stop your happiness to return to a place—
—A place where you feel so alone?
Why do the tears flow?
You're killing yourself—
And you fail to realize
Your own self-doubt is the knife!
Pessimism,
The negative thoughts building inside—
They’re just as bad as the razorblade that kisses your skin as you sit in silence...
Why are you hurting yourself?
Temporary pain is only a distraction,
You were blessed and shaped by the hands of God.
What more could you possibly ask for?

Appearance is not everything.—
Stop the self-consciousness and live your life.
—acknowledge that you —are your worst —enemy...

I open my eyes.
The cries have ceased,
I return to the blank stare in the mirror.
The words are on repeat.
Who am I to think I’m beautiful—when I myself can’t see?
Who am I to think I'm valuable—when there is no self-confidence there?
Who am I to think I'm worthy—when I myself don't feel?

But it’s different this time,
My reflection speaks.
Saying no—
Who are you not to?
Your imperfections are beautiful.
Beautiful enough for the heart that is meant to love you,
Believe in yourself.
No more self doubt,
No more lost soul.

—No more insecurities flourishing,
A gorgeous garden is my mind.
No more weeds keep growing in,
Media is not my kryptonite,
No more weakening of my self esteem,
Thoughts of a young child finally unshackled —and free.