The city sleeps among its incandescence,
however,
she does not.
she watches,
she waits.
Locked in the safety
of her ivory tower,
her pale nakedness
becoming a silky glow in
the dim light of the room.
She is imprisoned
by her beauty,
though she is loved by many
she loves only one.
She waits up for him,
as a stranger
to the sea of sheets
that cling to her bare legs.
She hears footsteps
from down the hall
and questions,
is it her lover?
or is it another
who insists to pay for
her love.
She works the night,
a high end harlot.
Her sorrow wanes
like a wounded cry from
a beaten wolf.
Knuckles wrap against
the hotel door,
and she turns her gaze
from the city outside the window,
her hair moving
like dancing rays of
stolen light.
She reaches for the lipstick
on the night stand,
and walks bare skinned
and beautiful to the door.

the day you leave is the day ill throw away my chapstick
my tears will become a moisturizer for lost hope
and each time a tiny crack appears i'll wish you would make it better
the day you dont pull me into you when you kiss me is when ill throw away my lotion
i would hope that our combined moisture will drench the inside of my thighs just fine
there is no backup plan or rebound
i've never been one to run with one ball
or to chase someone with something i so desperately want
how will i explain to my children why my favorite number is thirteen?
its almost as if im waiting for heartbreak
it seems inevitable with a brain like mine
so full of "what if" and "you know whats weird?"
without you all i have to look forward to is highschool teenagers finding the pattern of my sad in all of my writings

The ******* of my reflection has really heightened my realization...

I realize the mirror speaks volumes
To who I call on,
Reach out to,
Cling to...

Only you, mirror,
Only you who sees me...
Feels me, comforts me, loves me.

All who claim to
Dont do..
Just speak the words due.

They taunt you,
Leaving haunted a body so blue
From the holding of one's breath in hopes that love will anew...

You...
Me...
We all are guilty.

None of us are free.
Caged like every bird sings of once or twice...

Just might...
Find freedom in reflection,
Freedom that penetrates,
Freedom that really sets us straight.

You make me feel alive. Like nothing ever has before. I can't even put into words the way I feel. I crave to be with you. You're all I ever think about. Every tweet, every song, every thing I see reminds me of you and there you are creeping into my thoughts. I want to be the one you want, the one who makes you happy. It's like an addiction and I can never get enough. Sitting next to you puts me in a state of bliss, a nirvana of happiness that nothing else compares to. You're all that I could ever want. You are my everything. I will never ever give up on you. Through amazing times or our lowest points in life I will be there to hold your hand. I will do all the things the others guys never did because to me, you're so much more than a pretty face or someone who is nice and sweet. You are perfection in every single way and I want you to be mine.

How do I find myself falling for a boy?
My damaged passion, choking at my throat
I let it percolate and run for cover
Imagining him as my lover

Pulling tricks out of never
Salty skin, I love his taste
One last chance to break this fever
He grabs me round the waist

The heat, so close, I shiver
No more tip-toeing along the shoreline
I submit, my lips quiver
Sensuality is mine

Warm, heavy breath
This boy will destroy me
Soft teasing tongue
I die, willingly

The dreams I dreamt,
The tears I spent,
The sorrows I have,
The love I gave,
It was all meant for him.

His love,
His hate,
His laughter,
His sorrow,
I wish I could accept it all.

Our time,
Our thought,
Our laugh,
Our smile,
It’s now in the past.

My wishes,
My dreams,
My kisses,
My gleams,
I give it all to him.

There, amongst the northern skies,
Tears driven by ghostly squalls to
Fall on the blackened, bleak rooftops
Of this northern town, forgotten.
Left to a grey Victorian rot
Decaying factory ceilings collapsing on,
Litter strewn floors, newspapers decompose
With triumphs from yester year
Industrial dust stained brickwork
Grimy reminder, of the grim past
Haunted dim gaslight probing the fog
Days, nights only separated by murky light
A ghostly silence, hangs like a grimy fog
Cloaking lost sounds of dull beating on metal,
Boots tramping over cobbled stones,
The sounds of clocking on, clocking off, no more