The hand that is pain seems to have strangled my emotions a bit.
At times gasping for air, I fall back inside of me and can reflect.

kind of deaths
kind of scrapes
kind of love
kind of rapes
kind of fights
kind of hate

Those so many things that had happened on so many kind of evenings
I never thought I would make it to day break and am lucky to still be
breathing.
Never tell anyone.

with my heart everywhere, I think I know how you feel.
As long as it is the real person you are showing.

kind of let down
kind of sad
kind of bored
kind of mad

I want to see you through your evenings, days, and mornings.
I have been there, even if other fools past said they cared.
I am here listening.
Never tell anyone.

I could taste you in my mouth.
Savoring every last drop from when we last met.
The leaves were changing, falling and pulsating.
In this autumn chill,  I knew you would come back.
I hung on desperately like those leaves, to your infrequent letters.
They didn't come when you promised.
As this season always returned, so did you.
I licked my lips.

The times of past had been rough.
Misunderstandings.
I could just feel it in the air, maybe things wouldn't be the same.

We were finally alone.
You always preferred crowds to me, but that was just your nature.
What did that matter now?
I was ready to surrender to you.
I could taste you in my mouth again.

And just like so many times before, your palm struck my cheek.
Crumbled my body like those leaves.
I remembered the man I waited for.
Another hit and a push again.
I was tasting the blood mixed with fear.
I waited a whole year.
You repeated yourself.
There was no doubt, I was tasting you in my mouth again.

You are the rock stuck inside of  my sock.

You are drying off naturally after the longest shower in history, because you forgot the towel.

Like the string that is hanging off of my sweater.  I keep tugging it and

pretty soon it is short enough for July weather.

The person using the car horn instead of ringing a door bell.

The low battery symbol on my cell.

Pungent perfume from a co-worker, the grossest smell.

The **** that asks for the red piece from your package of sweets.

The friend who cancels five minutes before every time you meet.

The rap artist that thanks God when he wins an award, even though his

songs are just about killing.

Medical technicians milling about when your arm really is broken.

The chapstick left in the pocket when the clothes are in a dryer.

Dress pants for work that are so tight, you feel you must be riding a wire.

The friend's children that you think are rude,

Unexpected company when you and your lover were getting in the mood.

But I guess it is just easier to say, I just don't have a good attitude.

I get off thinking
me not wearing any clothing
you dressed, pleasing me.

cute women on facebook always wanting to find a spiritual life.

they post their **** pics, wanting god while you are imagining them as your wife

a pretty face, with a head just full of air and space.

ladies living off photo comments, in a teenage-like race

asking for the fastest path to enlightenment, as long as their bed is the place.

the guru is already picking out the Victoria's Secret colors in lace.

men praising them wanting to be their next spiritual guide.

when in fact he just wants to ride her special slide.

when she gets enough of his enlightenment, surely he will hide

my boyfriend is a pervert
begging
for me to wear the shortest skirt.

never leave house in such an instance
blinding
everyone at a within seeing distance.

It's good to be an ugly gal.
No one man will ever hold the door,
or dare to call me a *****.

Having a sober conversation,
knowing no man is never looking to score.
Having a drunk conversation ,
knowing he is ready to do me on the very same floor.

I master my detective skills,
finding out about all of his side thrills

Acquiring medical degrees,
when he confesses what those warts may be.

Becoming a priestess, through Vedic *** tricks
hoping he falls in love through his stick

Most of all a sense of humor,
because what pretty girl could write this sick?