Shall you discover that,
Her eyes are not as big as the moon,
Skin not golden but a tanned pink,
You could never tell woe and her apart.

By the passenger seat of her jaw,
A chipped tooth hidden behind a laugh,
The oddest tint of awe,
The asymmetry of the softest flesh.

As she strips off one by one,
The realisation of obscurity,
An alien to what you have perceived,
To be just another mediocre heart.

For she lingers around death,
And you are terrified of the dark,
A girl far from pretty,
The girl who radiates like the Sun.

this is not about you
and I am done writing about you because all you really ever were was 3,000 almosts that never meant anything in the end
I'm not writing about how much I love you anymore but about how much I absolutely loathe your menacing brown eyes that glitter and gleam with fire
I'm not writing about how beautiful you are but how terribly rotten you are
to the very core
I'm not writing anything about you anymore at all because that is exactly what you want from me
I feed your ego
you never loved me
you just loved the
attention
and this is not about you.

Bury my nose in the crevice of your skin
Deep breaths, taking you in.

Wandering hands start a fire within,
Fleeting kisses upon your chin.

Drawing you close, taking you in,
I trace our stories across your skin.

She was deciding our fate
On the petals of flowers she picked
From her mother’s garden
When she left it at
“He loves me not,”
Convinced herself this was true,
And chose to float away
Like the petals in the wind.

i cry during Bambi
you cried in your car after your high school girlfriend tried to come on to you

you and i--
we wouldn't, but--
tonight
or tomorrow
or the next day
we could give ourselves away

we could shoot white deer together in the mountains without a license
the blood from their heads would make cherry snow cones in the powder
and we would have fun savoring the flavor
watching something innocent die

but how would we feel the moment it was over?

you asked me what love is today, little one.
I smiled and said,
love is your mummy and daddy smiling.
love is how we care for you.
love is the way we kiss.

I wish I could say that love
is always made up of comfort
and warmth
and a cherished feeling
spreading through your veins.
but it's not.
love is the tears stained into your cheeks.
love is the constant feeling of jealousy
because you can't bear anyone taking away
the only person who makes you happy.
love is sadness
love is broken
love is a knife
that twists in your stomach
every time he doesn't reply.

I wish I could say love was easy, little one.
It's not.
But it sure as hell is beautiful.