The light, the fire, is beautiful,
But it is painful. More painful the day after, when
Skin mends and tried to heal, but you keep going.
Touching, burning.

I never wanted to be in pain.
I never wanted to feel the sting of the flame
Or the numbness of a scratch mark.
Or the pinch of the blade.yet it is so seductive. Addicting.
I am addicted to pain. It gets me going,
Releases every demon I have into the world.

And then I miss them, conjure them back into me.
And I repeat the process.

Fighting against these stupid currents once again.
The change and peace I long for is impossibly far,
Straight off the horizon and
Two light years away.
In that randomly created and murdered star, I see
A life I know I can't have yet:
A daughter, a lover, and a smile.
Now, though... Now I feel swarmed by thousands of bees,
Each thought running through my head is a sting that welts on my skin.
I try to heal, but the water rushing at my legs as I stand in the river
Turns to acid
And erodes my bones. I am held up by the memory of the
Perfect body I once had.
The curve and color washing off for the first time in years.

My heart beats,
My heart is red. The blood runs through
And infects my head.
My cheeks burn,
I blush bright pink. My head is spinning,
I feel my stomach sink.
My body shakes,
My body wants. A thought of you
Is a thought that haunts.
My lips tremble,
My lips kiss. My throat burns
When it's you I miss.
My arms embrace,
My arms show my love. I pull you down
Just to see you above.
My eyes feel heavy,
My eyes see you. You look at me
With your eyes of nearly blue.
I see your face,
I see your eyes. The color changes,
The color cries.
I feel your lips,
I feel your grace. With an addicting drug,
Your tongue is laced.
I want your body,
I want your soul. I will keep you forever.
That is my goal.
I love your voice,
I love your mind.
I love the way you are always so kind.
I love your body,
I love your touch.
The scent you give: I can't get enough.
I love your laugh,
I love the times
That we can sigh and empty our minds.
We wait for the future,
We wait for a life
When we escape from our lives and I become your wife.
I wish to the earth,
I wish to the moon,
That everything we want will come very soon.
I wish to the trees,
I wish to the sun,
That you will be my, and I will be your, only one.

nowayback-onewayforeward

It's a private thought. They are not meant to be invaded, but
They were anyway. I thought you knew what my dreams were.

Every single one, I see a pair of eyes. Sometimes blue,
Sometimes green,
Sometimes grey,
But always shimmering.

It was dark and I saw nothing else. But somehow I could feel
Hands.
Gentle hands on my bare skin.
And a breath in my ear, whispering things that only matter
When said by one voice.

I could feel something that only one person can make me truly feel.
Love, fear, and a consuming lust.
Somehow, we were floating, but felt safe. We had the confidence and grace
Of cherry blossoms in the wind.

He kissed every ligament in my spine,
Returned to my lips and eyes,
And used his skin to cover my body, only for him to see.
He played with my hair,
He sighed on my neck and breathed me in. All I could
Think was "me. He is doing this to me."
He kissed my neck, about to completely connect
And make me feel more than I ever will.

And then I woke up.

-Year fifteen.

Normal girl, tall and slender. Bright eyes and developing body.
But her hands, oh... Her hands were sculpted by something else. Beautiful bones,
Long, pink nails and the skin on her palm smoother than silk.
The veins show a dull peppermint on her snowy skin.
Her thin wrist and delicate movements.

She cracks her knuckles so her sharp joints will show more.

-Year twenty three.

The life she lived previous was pressured by the pollution in the air. ****,
Drugs, and alcohol. She slouches and shivers on a warm summer day,
Huddled in a corner of her house.

Her hands show no more snow. The veins seem shriveled.
Her joints were swollen and unmovable.
Her palms are coarse from rubbing them together and her nails...
Oh, her nails were ****** and torn off. She clawed too much at her neck
As she was held down and suffocated.

-Year twenty four.

*"I am sorry." The note read.

It was a deformed hand. Bite marks on her fingertips, shriveled skin with blotches and sores.
The veins drawn over in pink scars from jagged blades and old attempts.
It was a miracle she could write at all.

She now lays in an open casket. Eyes stare at her contrasted beauty.
Her childhood friend had always loved her hands. He reconstructed them.
A shriveled old body, only twenty four years old, but seemingly ancient.

But her hands, oh... Her hands were sculpted by someone who truly loved her.
Beautiful bones,
Long and pink plastic nails. The skin on her palm made of silk.
The veins are drawn with a dull peppermint pastel on her falsely snowy skin.

He cracked her fingers so her prosthetic joints will move less.