I can’t divide *** and love They come combined In my mind How do you make me feel so good in bed Then I leave in tears with the things you said Your jealousy and mixed up mind Your insecurities Keep you stuck behind
I crave your touch to see your soul Despite the manipulation and control you hold You’re no bad boy But you’re bad for me My spirt is lifted When I’m away I’m free The people around me I ignored all this time Who told me they’re proud Support ups and downs But nothing from you Not a single word No well done or how’d it go No encouragement So that’s how I know You’re bad for me
If your values are material You aren’t wired right When status is your aim, Likes are an empty game You’ll never be fulfilled, There’s no depth to be instilled That heart doesn’t fill your cup But I see it’s a momentary up It soon fades away Working on the next thing that you’ll (post) say
When your watch takes the place of your smile And you let it dim the shine of your eyes When the perception from others cripples your freedom Image is nothing to believe in Labels aren’t an achievement Sadness and fear is transparently clear
I recognise you’ve worked hard for success But what about passion and life beating through your chest? I don’t care about the after party Or the ‘everyone’ celebrity It doesn’t impress me
I open your books of poetry You close them tight on me Afraid to show your trueness It’s all I cared to see
Sometimes just the right words come At just the right time. Sometimes it takes a little pain To realise the gain Sometimes you forget your worth And the kindness you deserve Sometimes, as much as it’s your nature to nurture and to fix You can’t offer light when you’re broken in to bits
With the most beautiful sincere brown eyes that reveal more than they realise. Connection. Touching. Underneath clothes... Warm oil drips on skin, glistening Candlelight, delicate, sensual... Hands, bodies. Lips, skin... It was all a dream
I pull the covers of tonight across our skin A blanket of stars upstaged by your eyes Every hair follicle awakened with the movement of your lips Tenderness in gentle dream The smell of the midsummer nights breeze The palm of my hand to the warmth of your chest, I press And leave the shooting-star for another Who needs the hope of its wish