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Sep 2012 · 731
If my love for you is nay
Jaycee Lynn Sep 2012
I cross my heart.
I hope to die.
I'll stick that needle in my eye.
My love for you, I hope to find.
And to this promise, I shall bind,
My heart, my soul, myself and all.
From the start of winter,
till the end of fall.
And if it turns my love is nay,
I'll stick that needle in my eye.
Mar 2012 · 787
Stricken
Jaycee Lynn Mar 2012
It's not easy being stricken,
but your eyes get to me.
If I was behind bars in a prison,
your eyes would set me free.

Like deep pools of mud,
they make me feel *****.
But it's the thought of your love,
that scrubs me clean.

It's not easy being held down,
but your eyes drag me lower.
Let me show you a place called my heart,
your welcome to loiter.

I'll lock you up,
throw away the key.
I'm just so taken by you,
Won't you be taken by me?

I don't mean to sound greedy,
or needy,
I just need me
in sight of your eyes.

So drag me under,
just pull me under.
And don't you dare let go,
till I die.
Dec 2011 · 1.9k
Mud.
Jaycee Lynn Dec 2011
We start off so excited to grow up,
so dedicated to our maturity.
If only we knew the hell we would face.
The decaying of our heart's flesh,
the tearing of our minds,
trying to find ourselves in mud,
because that's all we see in ourselves.
No such thing as flawless,
we are all perfectly broken.
Looking for ourselves in mud,
That is all we will ever see in ourselves.
Dec 2011 · 535
Fear
Jaycee Lynn Dec 2011
Do you ever look up at the sky and fear for your life?
Fear for the heart that thrives inside you?
The same heart that throbs like a newly drilled cavity,
and flutters in sync with your stomach while boarding cloud nine,
do you fear it will stop?

Do you fear for your voice?
The unique song that plays through your teeth,
the one noise that stands strong above the thunder.
Do you fear it will fall silent?

Do you fear for your body?
Your growing flesh and breathing soul?
Or do you sit and wish all three were up above,
wound up in a cloud?

I do fear for our beating hearts
which will grow old and ache with every night that turns,
and our voice that shall fall off key
with every day that shines.
But, if we are to rot,
with our slowly wrinkling souls and decaying skin,
we will no doubt do it together, therefore,
I shall not fear at all, but prepare for the days to come.
For when I look up at the sky, I do not wish to be apart of it,
but to remain beneath in happiness,
suffering with you.

— The End —