Sheepishly blinking
Trembling hands at the ready
Skin flushing deep pink

Hands gently exploring skin
As their pure bodies entwine

I prefer being lonely
It means that nobody can pick on me
Or at least, say hurtful things
Within my hearing distance

I remember sitting down on the bus
As it pulls out to leave the stop
You wave at me through the window
With a misty look in your eyes
As though you regret this, us
I tuck my hair behind my ear sheepishly
Lips still tasting of your sweet lust
I can still remember how you softly yet firmly pushed yours onto mine
My neck, burning at the red marks
That you placed there as a sign of dominance over me
I was always yours
But you was never mine

Wooly layers
Pumpkin spiced
Crunchy leaves
Darker nights
Browns, oranges and deep reds

Autumn is here

When I write
I feel my mind
Slowly melt into the paper
Like ink from the soul

They were small, not what I expected from a soul like you
They were bruised and scarred in unusual places
This intrigued me, I thought could tell a lot about you already
I traced with mine around the folds and lines of yours

But yours soon got too big for you
Although small in size, they grew with force
I no longer wanted to trace them, touch them or see them
I wanted to push them away from me
Like a hot iron being pressed against cold flesh

You enjoyed it, I could tell from the grip you had behind them
Squeezing out every ounce of fear I had in me
I panicked, trying to use mine in a feeble battle against you
You won, and with that, I realised how yours were so different

The cocoon of heat
That I have buried myself into
Wont allow my body
To tear itself away

Bed, I love you

I feel like I should be a
young
productive
smart
full-of-life girl

but I feel like a
tired
dying
lifeless girl

I thought we would become that old couple
That we walked past on the pier
Sharing an ice-cream, the way she looked at him
As though she was still 18
But things change
Time, emotions, love, feelings, thoughts and actions
They all do too
And I suppose that you was right
When you said that we would never grow old

I want to write
As though I know the perfect
Words to say
But in all honesty
I'm not cut out for this