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',.
Janay Moore May 2014
',.
I wish I wouldve written your words in Braille so I could feel your voice on my fingertips
Janay Moore Aug 2013
I dream of wearing your skin.
Therefore maybe I can seek the solace I long
and touch you whenever I want.
I could kiss your hands,
Or play with your hair,
Breathe in your scent until I figure out what it is.
I would control your thoughts and make you smile because I miss it every time I laugh,
I might engrave my name on your feet so you'll know that I'll always carry you.
And all your footprints and dances and long walks with other girls will all still be me.
I'll sing my voice into your eardrums until I'm a song you can't forget;
the lyrics may slip but you'll always hear my tune.
So maybe one day when you fall in love and the wedding bells sound, my words will come waltzing at you down the aisle.
And my melody will stop you from harmonizing with another
In hopes that you'll come home to me, and forget that you loved her.
Janay Moore Nov 2013
You want to paint me
like you did Jesus.
Without ever seeing
my face.
Janay Moore May 2014
Over 200 schoolgirls,
what difference does it make?
If there were only one ten or eight,
they were never yours to take

Hadija, Febi, Chioma,
should be in all of our heads,
but are instead
in a filthy man's bed.

We are the hands
that need to hold their mothers
or wipe away the tears
of their broken baby brothers

One found schoolgirl

the difference that would make
to be held in her fathers arms

they were never yours to take
Janay Moore Mar 2014
If this is so unbiblical,
why do you make me
shout Jesus louder than
a Southern Baptist?
Janay Moore Oct 2013
If only my ink were my lips
then I'd write on your skin
because I know you love reading
and the feel of my kiss
Janay Moore Jan 2014
it seems I've lost my body
in the Red Sea of your bed sheets
i guess it's my fault
for relying on Sailor Jerry

& you love to speak with things that burn
my throat was no exception
your hands knew every language
but were not fluent in rejection
Janay Moore Nov 2013
It’s an unarguable truth that loneliness is an addiction.
The Devil draws you in until your brain no longer functions,
He’ll pluck through you like petals on a daisy,
Desert you in your bed and leave you feeling crazy.
Words keep coming, silent without end.
Miserable and loathing your new and soulless friend.
Just last year you were jump roping for heart,
The memory of that day leads to a devastating spark.
Deep in your closet lies a rope,
You jump out of bed and jump for hope.
It caresses your neck until your body folds,
Now fleeing from that closet is a beautiful soul
*I wrote this last year around the time a boy from my old middle school/my sisters current school killed himself. The thought of someone so young committing such a desperate act was and still is absolutely heartbreaking. Unfortunately there is a beautiful/romantic association behind suicide; it gets portrayed as the only way out even when explaining that it isn't. I know it sounds cliche, but truly, bullying is never the way to go. It is cowardly and absolutely unnecessary for both parties.*
Janay Moore Mar 2014
Had we but world enough, and time,
I would spend eternity,
with your lips pressed against mine.
Read "To his Coy Mistress" Andrew Marvell
Janay Moore May 2014
Lately my dreams have been working 12 hour shifts
and you seem to disappear at the 13th
But around hour 15 I start to draw your eyes on the tv screen
and taste your lips on my knife
and
then
I start to bleed because I think your name just cut into my lip a bit

and you're gone

At hour 19 i swear I hear your voice on the other line of whoever my dad is talking to and I can't breathe anymore
and
then
Hour 22 is the roughest
but only because my hands are a lot softer than yours and I can't quite get them to do that thing you did
and

It's hour 24
and I think this blanket was stitched from your body
Janay Moore Dec 2013
i don't get why we choose to fall in love
over and over
when the same hand that pushes us
helps us back up to kick us
& **** us

all the "**** yous"
and screaming
the punching & dreaming
of never falling in love again

but laying in it
without ending up on the ground

because when we scream
only our bodies make a sound
and I know love hurts
but why did it start hitting?
Janay Moore Jul 2013
He's in your eyes
     and in your touch
          between your lips
                in all those moments when we're sinning
                                                                         so much.
Janay Moore Aug 2013
I just discovered my body in the clouds
Dripping like the rain
Similar to when I found myself in you
Right before you changed
Then thunder struck
But my body could never shake
Even though your fingertips were my personal earthquake
The sky grew black
Just to paint my skin
My stomach began to swirl and I became destructive
A tornado,
but I did not destroy us.
Janay Moore Oct 2013
seems improbable
when I think
about how I failed science
and passed so many men
just so you could hold my hand
or cry on my shoulder when your daddy left
or kiss you behind a brick wall
or how my tongue became fingertips
until your skin was all I could feel
and whispering to you how I was worried
that this was it and I was done
but you'd always convince me
I was going no where
that you'd always be the one
Janay Moore Jul 2013
I drowned in you

I could never foresee  
how you would hide me
nor how your kisses would become chastising.

I always seemed to forget
how  your love would resurrect
with every desire to be wrapped between my legs.

You never foresaw the outcome
that I would in turn use my tongue as a blade
And mercilessly strip through your ego
and my pain.
Janay Moore Dec 2013
this winter
happens to be
warm enough
for me
not to have you
to use anymore.
Oz
Janay Moore Nov 2013
Oz
There's no place like home
Except that dark corner of your mind
But I can't tell the difference
Because that's where I reside.
Janay Moore Apr 2014
I should really stop taking your body as my communion
but oh God
do I remember Jesus every time.
Janay Moore Apr 2014
Well there's the new satisfaction of
feeling
nothing

New rites of passage only attained
through
cutting

There's that new longing, for ringing in an empty
head

That new desperation for devils that leave you
more than
emotionally
dead
Janay Moore Oct 2014
You don't drive me crazy,
just so far out of my senses
that all I can sense is you

and all I can hear is your fingertips
singing to my skin
in a language my mind
can't comprehend
but I know they're saying something
that's making me dance

that's making me sweat

that's making me crazy
Janay Moore Nov 2013
home is that place
on my inner left thigh
that you'd always trace
right before you left
Janay Moore Feb 2014
I'll never miss the sunset as long as you're around
I swear it's engraved in your lips
And it's impossible for my heart not to hit the ground
When I'm clothed in your fingertips

I see Heaven every time you're in
But there's Hell in the back of your eyes
Even though most of our time spent is sin
You make it worth the demise

Maybe one day you'll hold me
And it will mean much more than this
So I can stop thinking I'm crazy
When I'm bathing in your kiss

I'll tell you I love you without making any sound 
 Because I'll never miss the sunset as long as you're around.
Love poem I had to write for class. Super cheesy but I like it right now because I've been really cheesy lately. Also this is 14 lines on paper.
Janay Moore May 2014
where's
the fun
in being
vulnerable
if there's
no one there
to use you

what's
the point
of being
lonely
if there's
no other island
to cruise to
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kübler-Ross_model
Janay Moore Mar 2014
if i could eat the sun
i'd imagine it'd taste
like your skin.
Janay Moore Mar 2014
your lips
are the softest
of cotton
I couldn't
wear a sweater
stitched with
anything else
Janay Moore Apr 2014
sometimes we forget that the Sun is a star too

like how i forget that my world doesn't revolve around You

or that if the Ocean was red, the Sky wouldn't be blue

and even though i knew me, before i knew you,

if you left right now, i'd have no clue
Janay Moore Apr 2014
you could say,
are long dirt roads that never end
trotted on by horses
(you can call them men)

Women

you could say,
are cobble stone streets
constantly impaled by stilettoed friends
(you could call them men)

Women

you could say,
are black tar roads
riddled with curves and bends
plowed on by Subarus
(otherwise known as men)

Women

you could say,
are nice footpaths in the park
run on by children
around the age of ten
(often boys that grow up to be men)
Janay Moore May 2014
When the next boy asks:

"What kind of music do you like?"

I'll tell him
about the rhythm of your breathing

And the baritone of your heartbeat

— The End —