A daunting sky releases the moon's glow
on the shy lotus sprouting from
the cave's hollow splint.

The wind bullies her fragile frame
but she stands unbreakable.
She is unwavering and fearless.

The showering rain chills her spine,
but the lotus is numb to its touch.
It will not control her fore she has learned

to weather the storm.
So she smiled and danced in the rain
and the moon envied the lotus flower
of the night.

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.
Something comforting.
It is a comfort only very damaged people understand- the tacit agreement to cause pain, and to receive it.
Pleasure is for people who have what they want.
But for those of us who are starving, ours is best peppered with suffering.
Being with someone who understands that carries its own worth-
I don't want you to make me feel good.
I couldn't stand it if you did.
I don't want you to touch me gently, or ask if I'm alright, or stop to look into my eyes.
I am starving, and so are you: I want your teeth.
I want you to make me hurt. And I want to hurt you.
I want you to hurt me because I'm not him, and I want to hurt you because you're not her.
We want to see each other suffer because we are starving and we need to feel that someone else is.
Don't hold back. I want you to lower me because I'm too good for her.
Don't love me, don't caress me. Dig your nails in. Drip candlewax on my stomach.
One step down from torture is all I can stand in the way of human connection, when it isn't her.
Punish me for looking at her like a baleful puppy tonight, even as you waited in my room with your soft skin and your sharp teeth.
There is nothing you can do that will be too violent, too brutal, too sadistic.
I don't want to be loved right now.
I am too raw.
I want to be touched. I want to be ruined. Leave marks. Smear lipstick.
Lower me because I am
Too
****
Good for her.
Let this heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs don't matter.
Help me **** it. Help me pin my demons to the bed and make them writhe, and I will do the same for you.
Let's exorcise our loves tonight and banish them to hell.
Let's tell our skin that it is irrelevant.
Let's say "*******" to the things that bind us. I will cut your heart out for him.
I will kiss your scars, not to heal them but to remind you that when you put them there you fought for something, something we both fight for now.
Hurt me. Fight her. Do it for her.
Do it for her because I'm not good enough to hurt.
Do it for her because I'm TOO good to hurt.
Crush me.
You could boil me alive and it wouldn't make up for her, so at least leave me bruised.  
I will give you what you need, and you will give me what I need: not love, but contact.
Please,
Let my heart know on no uncertain terms that its needs
Don't
Matter.

There is something beautiful about two sad people who agree to hurt each other.

There's just something about the way your eyes shine at two in the morning.

some stories are too small to tell
but for the finest eyes to observe
and the widest mouths to recount.

some journeys are too small to take
but for the most patient
and the most determined.

When they brought
the tent down,
with a sudden thud,
neatly packed the things
in their haversacks,
hurriedly in silence,
resumed the journey
on their separate ways,
he couldn't let go
of her smile
she gave him
the moment she found
they were in love
with each other.
Only a memory,
an image of what was
in a glowing moment of the past,
became more real
than the reality,
staring now at his face.