the contrast
between skin
and blood
is like night and day,
if only night
was red
running down thighs
and day
was tarnished
and pale.

I hate my brain
Especially on days
It causes my eyes to rain
As they release all the pain
Oh I miss the bliss
Of that tender kiss
Stop
Allow no room
For these thoughts
To loom
Stop

breathless
it grips you with a cold blade
tight around your throat
no screams escape;
no pleas get out-

nothingness; no sound.

. . . the whispers threaten;
your pulse quickens
"I'm a failure,"
"I'll never make it."

stops. turns to:

"no one wanted you anyway,
so why are you still fighting me?"

fragmented as it may be,
you turn away; ashamed.
frightened. in pain.

but suddenly-
a voice, growing stronger through the years rages on.

"Because I deserve to not feel like this."
"Because I deserve to feel wanted."
"Because I deserve to believe the truth."
"Because I deserve to not be in pain anymore."
"Because I deserve to be happy."

Because you deserve to be happy.

I promise you deserve to be happy.

never trust a poet's words
they sound sweet at first
but you'll notice the emotion in their words
it all sounds too...
fake
"i love you like the sea loves the shore"
becomes too scripted
you hear the small tinge of love actually left in their voice
hoping
hoping it could mean something
but it doesn't
it never does
it's just the way they say it
one day, after they have left
you will find their poems, and they will be the exact words that they had said to you
once long ago

I think I needeth to be alone
Wherein I canst be Invisible to others....
Just dissapear..

Baby, please.
It's the way you speak,
forming words so easily.
And I think of the way you think,
it keeps me from falling *asleep.

I
am
only
a
fact
when
my
existence
hums
beneath
the
felt tip
of your
fingers,
your hands
lingering
above
my
chestnut
skin,
have
I
become
a
fact
of
life?
I only
come
into
existence
when
you've
made
me a
fact
of
your
life.