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flower May 2013
It was a moment so chilling when I realized I had feelings for you again.
Yes, again.
This rotation of endless "agains" has kept me up day and night in anger,
love, lust,  but most of all, confusion.
This relation we have is driven by ****** jabs and hurtful comments
designed to inflict the most pain on each other.
This "again" that I feel will fade into nothing more than another hatred for you.
But just like every other time, soon we will both start gazing at each other from across the room
and quickly looking away as though the other hadn't seen our eyes on their face;
We will begin once again lose the offensive spews
and our small conversations will evolve into tense talks with blushed cheeks and hot ears;
Yet somehow, I cannot get enough of this cycle of "agains".
It is addictive like your personality.
It is an obsession like your ability to make me crazy.
I am crazy for you,
but at the same time I fear that this ***** craze with wear off
and we will be left with nothing but silence.
Could this be true admiration for one another? Is this chemical?
Or is this passionate relationship powered on by our teenage hormones and sexually-frustrated bodies?
Just tell me what you want.
If you are happy, I will be content.
I guess, if you look at our situation from afar,
you could say we're in love. I’d disagree.
This is nothing but an infatuation between two people both sharing one common thing:
somebody who they can imitate passionate love with again and again.
I crave your physical touch and your boyish humor.
I need your attention most of all.
You need it too; you need me more than I need you.
How you wish to brush your lips against mine and feel my body and hold my hand and be mine. Nonetheless I wish for that too. Badly.
Nightly I torture myself over what to think, what to want.
But every time this happens, I push you away.
And the cycle of "agains" return, only to ruin us inside even more.
j.b.
flower May 2013
my mom gave me a lovely pair of pajama bottoms
sewn from baby pink satin
with cream lace edges.

i loved to wear those frilly little shorts
day and night and night and day
until i realized something not-so-lovely.

they soon became a lacy representation
of your see-through personality
with the way my ******* showed through.
j.b.
flower May 2013
if i had one wish
it'd be to capture the darkness in your pupils
and store it in a glass vial;
so whenever it felt necessary
i could pour the cosmos from your eyes
and feel as luminous as the stars
j.b.
flower May 2013
i have a rope around my neck
and it's  sliding
            tighter
                  and
         ­             tighter on my throat.
                  my life is in peril
            for a string of corded jute has proven stronger than man
j.b.
flower May 2013
you petty people should thank me
for all the work i've done.
what work, may you ask?
why, have you not read a classic?
have you not heard beautiful orchestral music?
don't tell me i'm worthless!
for from my invisible ***** have sprung
millions of brilliant works
admired by humans on a daily basis.
why do humans seek love
when the route to me is less ragged?
what did love ever bring to the table?
artwork? literature? no!
the novels you read about passionate lovers
springs from the very emotion that i behold!
love never typed or scripted
or sang or acted
for it is me--sadness!--who spins the earth.
he's crazed! you may gasp
but when my influence finds you
it'll seep from the music notes
and drip from printed words
like the blood of a slit vein
(which, may i humbly add,
i have also given rise to)
and overcome your mind likewise
to the countless others
doubtful of my solitary strength.
but nonetheless my beautiful wrath is here to stay
in the form of human emotion and creation
but i will never succumb to my own nature
because frankly
i enjoy my work.
j.b.
flower May 2013
your eyes are the devil's work
but your hands, good heavens,
and the work of god*

he told me
j.b.
flower May 2013
hex / my / soul
with the promise of "forever" ;

capture / my / emotion
with a softened expression in the morning sun ;

keep / my / heart
with three words of priceless definition
j.b.
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