she's searching for god
in all the wrong ways
kissing men and bottles
turning her home into a brothel
staying up till dawn
chanting his name instead of
god's
she's looking for redemption
and a way to let go
she's looking for god to forgive her
but instead she begs for you
to touch her and love her
and make her feel complete
she wants a godly love
you can't compete
she's looking for god
in all the wrong places
in broken homes and
raging fires she's
looking for god in the
ugliness and the daze
something to **** the haze
she's looking to start over
to get rid of the guilt and fear
but she'll run as fast as she can
whenever god comes near
she doesn't realize it but
it's not men or god she needs
it's forgiving herself
which is something so high up on the shelf
she just can't reach

With pen we show our hearts
True feelings to our cores
Through this very medium we share it across the shores
For me it was my once wife
That led me to this strife

In healing I put pen to paper
That'll  be the reason we write
For they wrote on our hearts
Be they not the poets?
The poets of our hearts!
©️

if i took a shot
for every time
i wanted you
but couldn't have you
i don't think
i would ever
be sober

s.s

she is afraid she is not enough, yet too much, all at once

Words express the emotions you can't show
It keeps you sane and people don't have to know
Keep your head up and your pen high
Let your words speak truth and not one single lie
Just keep writing until the day you die

"You should really stop that.”
I look over at her, quizzical.


She points to the cigarette dangling from my mouth and gives me the basic line that everyone says to a smoker. 

“It’s not healthy.”

“I could stop smoking at any given moment, yknow.” As I crush the supposed  cancer stick to the dirt, resisting the urge of an eye-roll. 
She’s watching me, obviously waiting for an explanation. 

God, why does she care? No one ever has before.
“It wouldn’t be hard, I mean, I’m not addicted or anything. ”

She laughs and suddenly I’m trying to ignore how good it sounds.
“Isn’t that what all addicts say?”

“I’m serious.” Judging by the look on her face, I know that wasn’t the answer she wanted. So I stopped sugar coating it.

“I just don’t quit because I’d rather **** myself in a way that’s more..socially accepted. People don’t notice as much- they call me a smoker, not suicidal. I like it that way. ”

I lay here
Naked and exposed.
But only for a night,
By morning he must go.
Make me feel beautiful,
I don’t care about tomorrow,
Kiss me, **** me, hold me
To forget all my sorrows.

Your eyes tell me to kiss you,
So I come to you and say kiss me
You don't say yes,
But you don't say no
And I get lost in the body language.
I thought I knew how to read it,
But the wine says otherwise,
So I say kiss me again,
Yet you tell me you're not ready,
For I haven't said you're beautiful enough,
I don't say another phrase,
Nor do I try a different approach,
I remain true to what I read from you
Towards me,
I might be wrong,
It wouldn't be the first time,
I daresay neither the last.