I look into those night-black eyes
stark against your moon-washed skin,
and realize.

You’re no longer there anymore.
At least not the you I once knew.
You are a stranger in my arms.
There is a shift, so slight but I feel it.
Like a soft creak in the floorboard.
Echoing
in the night.

You use my heart like you used my body. Wringing me out like a rag,
getting every last drop of
love and self respect that you can from me.
You lap it up greedily,
Knowing I always give everything
Until there’s nothing left of me worth having.

But you want me,
or at least want to get the last word in
one more kiss
one more sigh arching into you
You drink me in
your ungrateful eyes
memorizing the lines of my body
deep in the night tonight. 

Like lovers entwined, I know for the last time you will not be mine,
so I give you the night
tonight.

I am black lace kissed with stardust
You are brilliant, well loved, faded tie-dye
Leaving the smell of campfires, afternoon naps
fresh showers, and sleepy smiles in your wake  
Bonfire flames licking the space between our skin
Heart beat rhythms drive the music
To sway against our heartstrings
Connected.
Summer rain runs down us steaming
Feel your heat getting closer
warming my bones
melting my center
A shiver runs through me
So in tune, I pulse for you
Aching with the distance
That seems to always separate
Our good timing

I wrote I love you in the sand at the beach
Tide swallowed the words and drowned them
But the waves were not the reason for impeding speech
My awkward asocial character is the one to condemn
  Now the words are gone like the tearstains on my sheets that I have just  bleached.

Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.

Ran outside, no shoes
Hot tears, cold wind, breathe it in
Realizations

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Tulips are yellow
Leaves are green
My body resembles
An expensive flower bouquet
Bruises swell
Blood collects
But my lips are sealed
Want it to end
At all costs
I'd have no regrets
A new flower is laid upon me
When I do or say something wrong
Too bad they’re
Are always so carefully placed
Almost as if to hide them
From everyone
Leaves, tulips, and violets
Are artfully arranged
On my legs, on my chest,
On my back, and on my neck
I'm wrong he's right
No use putting up a fight
I'm terrified that if I do try to fight once more
Real flowers will be laid on my grave instead of my skin
Where I will rest forevermore.