Tonight let's go to my place,
light some candles, lock the door.

We'll have your dainty wrists and ankles
bound and shackled on the floor.

Those bright red rosebud lips
will scream my name and beg for more.

I've got some plans for you
my fragile love - my filthy *****.

Once we were children
wandering in the woods without a care
drinking milk and playing pretend
the world was bright and beautiful
and the people we loved were always there
and the only thing we were scared of was the dark
and my father walked out of my life
and I let him.

Then we were teenagers
frequenting the bowling alley Friday night
chugging monster and shooting pool
the world felt a little colder
and the people we loved were slitting their wrists
and everyone was so afraid of growing up
and a boy put his hand in my pants
and I let him.

Now we are shaky adults
haunting local bars and frat basements
sipping whiskey and smoking joints
the world is a horrible place
and the people we love are never coming back
and we've seen all there is to fear
and all the boys want to **** me
and sometimes I let them.

You were the perfect storm;
you came in and uprooted my innocence
introducing me to things I'd never known.
The ground trembled and split from your love
and I fell down into the abyss that remained.

You were the perfect storm;
a strong, steady earthquake forever changing
the landscape of my heart and mind.
No one will ever have the power over me
and my entire being that you once held.

For that I am grateful.

Every night I fall asleep to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the gentle kisses you so generously offer. Every morning I wake up to your stupid, soothing alarm and attempt to listlessly ****** you from your tasks.

    You are safe and strong and like no one I’ve ever known. A calm, kind, neutral party whom I fear I may corrupt.
For there is unimaginable darkness within this heart of mine. And while you might be a pleasant distraction from the pain, your love alone cannot illuminate the murkiest parts of me.

    The love I feel for you is comfortable. Like a soft blanket and a warm cup of tea. There is no passion, no desperation, no ferocity to this affection - but it is strong nonetheless.

    You and I will never move mountains; so move your lips against mine.

    We will never discover the secrets of love; so tell me all of yours.

every day is grey
so why not fill it with a little green?
wash it down with a little burn
smoke until your lungs bleed
because every sunny day
leads to a bleak one
and maybe that's ****** angst
but it's all too much too soon
being ****** into adulthood
having never coped with adolescence

You're the note my heart was playing
yet it always sounded wrong

as though something were missing
when I tried to sing along

but after years of trying
I just couldn’t learn the song

This world is filled with
blue and black and red
and yet we’re raised to see it in grey.
This world is filled with wonders,
with mountains and oceans and plains,
and yet people focus on personal flaws.

My body is a landscape.

My thighs are road maps
to all the darkest parts of me.
These crisscrossing lines and curves
will show you where I’ve been.
There are some with similar maps
traced over skin in small bumps and ditches.
Yet I can’t even wear shorts in public
without people staring.

My body is a landscape.

I feel no guilt for this landscape,
and the ways in which I’ve marred it,
so I dress as I like, heedless of the stares.
But the moment I see someone’s eyes stop,
see someone’s expression change--
that is when I feel shame.

My body is a landscape.