I’ve given kisses
that have ****** the soul
from less average men
but I’m not perfect
I do tend
to take control
but if you want
to tame me
then it would all depend
on how you want me

Do I need to kneel
in front of you
So you can take
my power?
Or do I stand
in front of you
and invite your
intimate touch
You know
the one
that makes me cower?

Or should I stand
naked
bleeding from your
caress?

There are but 101
different ways
that I can undress

I can be a Goddess
unmistakable by my glow
I can be your private
Call girl
ready for the show
I can be your Mother
or your daughter
or something in between
I don’t have my own identity
If I did
your ears would bleed
from my scream

I am ready to be
almost perfect for you
If only I could extract myself
from my own ****** mess

But for you
I’m happy
To be less

The taste in my mouth came bitter
Words from these cold hard lips
Vented a fire
I was ready to lavish

So you closed the door
And all around me fell away
The heat that I drank from
All washed and pressed into
A letter

No smell of your perfume
A kiss missing pose
Just forms all in black
As I read into silence

My rock crumbled with every
tear
Failed foolery wished
A turn back the clocks
I have become the lost

An end that started so well
Fell before my weary sadness
Oh how I miss you
So silently I step away

You know and I know and they know that there are those people that you have known about for the longest time
Those people who don't even exist in the back of your mind,
but you know that their existence is...
well...
in existence.
I am becoming friends with those kinds of people, people that make their nests in the deepest shadows of my subconscious.
Interesting human beings to say the least, each with their mandala-like moves and quirks that I have not yet memorized.
These are the people I am choosing to spend the moments that I have on earth with.
Interesting, don't you think?

A million ways to say one thing.
Maybe one feeling fractured into a million emotions.
Or perhaps the other way around.

I am scared.
I am so terribly frightened.
That I’ll fail--seemingly legitimate, yes?
Fear of failure stops even the surest of hearts.
But I am not sure. I am not strong.
I am the weakest of the weak.
I do not know whether to continue in my fear,
or bask in my pride.
Both are poisonous
but a middle line
seems
like
a
tightrope.