When you say that
I am better than him
You are forgetting that
He and I are both grown from
The same sandy soil

We may have sprouted differently
But to write him off is to
write me off too
As if my roots
and my stalk
and my flower
are not one

Well friend,
The most beautiful flowers have
The deepest roots
Mine, are intertwined with his
(Though I do not need him
to thrive)
Our stories, can not be separated cause
We've been through the rain
and mud
and beating wind
together

Even if we
flower in
incongruous seasons
neither of us are
better or
worse or
less full of life

How can someone with
the same ***** soul be
unworthy of my time?

the ghost of you lingers on my lips
the echo of your touch on the curve of my waist
I remember every shaking breath,
every sweet nothing you whispered between my thighs...
with every kiss I could taste little bits of me mixed with little bits of you mixed with the liquor you had been drinking that night
and I remember thinking that I liked the way you tasted.
then you took my hand and held it and I could see a spark in your eye that hinted of mischief and carnal desire.
and so you traced every curve of my body with your tongue
and then you painted my chest and my neck with marks that screamed, "she's mine," even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
and then the night grew old and the sun began to rise and I found myself stumbling out your door, newly addicted to the way you had made me feel.

When the world lays traps
Pass by them
And leave them alone