Boys kiss boys
And girls kiss girls
And boys and girls kiss

Get over it.

"Your eyes are my weakness"

I see right through you
Exploit the fact you're blind without me

"Your scent is my pronesness"

My humanly aroma can turn you off
So I mask it with axe after shave and Gucci guilty cologne even when we home

"Your lips are my vulnerability"

I understand when you ramble on you want me to grab you by the face and kiss you like our first date.
It reminds you why you fell in the first place.

"Your hair is my susceptibility"

So like Samson let Delilah cut it off. A man of God blinded by she who he called his third wife. Became a weak for sin so legs I grabbed like pillars and let them fall on me.

"Your touch is my humility"

I know where to feel to bring you back to me. The power of being your first and only. As my hands run through your body like a ship in an ocean.

"Your lust is my inferiority"

Bring you to your knees when the tides are high. Tell you that I love you right before I....

"Your love is my superiority"

Cheat. The fact that I know you love me gives power to the lies I feed... you. Stories I tell that can't be disproved even if you looked well.

Love blinds the eyes, since one thinks with the ***** that beats. Led by impulse all it does is repeat. Witness my parents split after 25. For the last ten only kissed on New Year and valentine's.
Why we live a lie, we can fall in and out of love over night. So I rather lay with you her, and her in these hotel sheets and avoid being heart broke like my father is. Smelling like great *** guided by lust. Is what a good stroke does.

i love you.
and no i don't mean,
i love you, like i'm trying to make empty conversation.
more vacant than the mailbox of the widow next door,
who hasn't left the house in eight years because the sunlight's embrace still feels like his.
i've never been one for small talk.

i love you
and no i don't mean,
i love you - like it's february 14th and i'm thirsty for someone to tell me i'm beautiful,
so i'd sell my soul to you
and stain your bitter lips with my name.

"i love you"
but you won't call me back next week
because i gazed in to your eyes like you were oxygen and i was struggling to breathe.
rather than you were a poem painted across the sky
that i was dying to read.
an excited grin flirting with my rosy lips, entangled with elation.

i mean *i love you
like my eyes become the north star when you laugh,
i see your face etched between the stanzas of love poems,
and i hear your voice in the wind's autumn serenade.

i mean i love you
like i'm a fifty year old alcoholic with wine stains on my carpet
and i'd still choose you over that bottle of liquid elation in the cabinet.
here i am. stumbling on my words,
choking on the poetry weaved into your smile.

and "i love you" -
the sun's fiery kiss against my skin
reminds me of yours.
and when my bones age, and your presence fades into the horizon like daytime's end.
your absence will burn like cherry wine flirting in the back of my throat.
i may fear sunlight too.

i love you.

                                               (m.c.)

Is any other girl out there sick of society's definition of beauty when it comes to our ***?

I'm not a typical teenager
I don't facebook things
Or post my life to the world
I don't tweet
Or Twitter
Or all the other
Networks
I don't instagram
In fact
I don't like pictures
If me. I hide from the camera
Hoping no one will
Click the photo button
I don't party
Or stay out late
I sit at home
Watching TV
Or better yet
Cuddling up with a good book
I don't waltz around
In revealing clothes
Hoping for a boyfriend
I don't act all bubbly
I cry and worry
I don't worry about boys
And dates
I worry about depression
And cutting and if my
Friends are really fine

I don't doodle or draw names on a binder
I write poetry on a site called helo poetry
And the only thing that upsets me
About that, is that I didn't find it sooner