A flower was offered to me;
Such a flower as May never bore.
But I said I’ve a Pretty Rose-tree.
And I passed the sweet flower o’er.

Then I went to my Pretty Rose-tree:
To tend her by day and by night.
But my Rose turnd away with jealousy:
And her thorns were my only delight.

It's more than just constant worry,
It's fear.

The fear of the small things,
Did I leave the oven on?
Did I lock the door?
Do my socks match?

The fear of the big things,
Does he love me?
Am I annoying?
Is somebody following me?

The fear of seemingly impossible things,
What if somebody shoots up the school?
What if I die today from a meteor?
Are there robot overlords?

The fear of unfortunate possible things,
What if If I don't have exact change?
I don't know how to answer this question, what if the teacher calls on me?
I cant stop loving him, even though he probably doesn't know I exist

It is more than a constant worry,
It's fear.

I do not believe my love is pretty
Or that it belongs among your soul.
It is pathetically afraid of catching glances.
And it clings to distance with a passion.
It is alive but it dances among shadows.
It curls under your hands
And races backwards
Hiccupping into the dark.
I never claimed to love
Before any of my heartbreaks.
So you kiss my lovely friend
Unaware that I have fallen.

loving him is poetry
and kissing him is art.

i'm used to being the creator
but being created from the affection
in his hands
and sculpted from intimacy
is a feeling like no other--
he doesn't just look, he sees me
every stray brush stroke
every drawn line
every brilliant color,
down to my skeleton,
he strips me of pretense and glows
with acceptance.

i am a bared soul,
battered and bruised,
shaken and scarred,
but even so--

i'm something beautiful in a gaze
like that.

Be my poison and be my drugs
Give me lustful kisses and tighter hugs
Love me with pain and show me the pleasure
Bury me in lust like your hidden treasure

Caress my body and stroke my face
Pull my hair and let our bodies race
Moan your curses and scream your shame
Bite my skin in this lustful game

Give me more you're my addiction
I love the heat and I love the friction
Slap me here and scratch me there
Show me your eyes, your **** stare

Punish me I need to be taught by my master
Keep going! Don't stop! I want it to go faster!
I'm gonna burst! This deed is almost complete!
When we're done lets lather, rinse and repeat.

He became
My pillow
My blanket
My air.

He became
My lips
My smile
My thoughts.

He became
My tease
My hand
My hold.

He became
My 3 am laughter
My 4 am kiss
My 5 am Sunlight.

I know that I'm not ready,
I know you fear it too.
If only I could open you up,
To all of your most tattered pages,
Feel the rips the others left behind,
And mend them one by one,
Piece together the scraps let loose,
Make sense of the sentences torn apart,
Give your story meaning,
By putting you back in sequence,
I can bare the cut of every page,
And swallow the pain of every word,
If only it meant that you would continue.
I would rewrite your beginnings,
Soften our rise and fall,
And give you the ending you always deserved.

This one's for the lonely
This one's for the proud
This ones for the sad at heart
This one's for the loud
This ones for the tired
This one's for the poor
This one's for the quiet
This one's for the happy
The ones who can be free
This one's for everyone
Including you and me
You see, we're all the same, dear
We all seek something more
So next time you start judging
Think down deep inside
We aren't that much different
You don't have much to hide