I've got my eyes slighty squinted,
as we spin round on a carnival ride.
I can almost smell the ocean from here,
as it washes in with the tide.

I can feel the dangling of my untied shoelaces,
and I can see people's faces
blurring with the bright colours of their clothes.
I am wearing my light grey dress,
and we are both laughing,
our hair is tangling together in a ginger and blonde mess.

I catch a glare of sunlight in my eyes,
so I close them and watch purple and green patterns dance
against the darkness of my eyelids,
I open them to realize that
no longer are we kids.

We are in the back seat of your car,
it's 2 AM and it's raining outside,
no longer are we on the carnival ride.
You try to tickle me in a flirtatious way,
and when I say I have to leave,
you beg me to stay.
I say goodnight,
and hug you tight.

Then,
Slowly,
I bring my face closer to yours,
and kiss you gently.

You kiss me back.
Once,
Twice,
and again.
Our lips begin to dance together,
Waltzing to the rhythm of the rain.

The scent of your skin fills my lungs,
and it adds a sensual feeling
to the embracement of our tongues.

Your hand slips beneath my shirt
as I pull yours off,
it feels like my heart is free of all its hurt.
Wandering hands in the darkness of night,
my eyes are fixated on you,
admiring your body in flickering streetlight.

Your breathing becomes shallow,
and I feel like you want me,
only me.
But I know now that it's just...
Lust.

Leaving home is no longer exiting the address attached to my paperwork.
The walls that contain my childhood are a time capsule full of spoiled memories.
The bedroom where I prayed away scary monsters is now a skeleton of myself with transplanted hobby attempts by my mother.
The rearranging of furniture, the shifting of pictures, the emptiness of space and claustrophobic piles of clutter in the closets push me outside.
Outside, where the trees grew with me and kept me shaded while my imagination transformed the branches into jungles or utopian planets ruled by female playmobile.
My mother laments at the clutter and space we hoard while my father would be happy as long as his tools are untouched.
Leaving home is like entering into a comma, and every time I wake up I've lost another memory.

She threw up blood and cried out lava.
He poured some salt into her mouth
to heal and seal the open wound.
I sat and watched from far away.

He spilled salt into her mouth,
She crunched and choked but lived
I sat and watched from far away,
not sure if this was love or hate.

She sputtered, gasped and choked but lived,
a puzzled look engulfed his face.
Unsure if this was love or hate,
I bit my lip and sat in silence.

The puzzled look had left his face,
replaced by rising, burning rage.
I bit my lip and sat in silence.
I was the only one who could save her.

Blind with burning rage for him,
I couldn’t heal or seal the wound.
With no one left to save her life,
She threw up blood and cried out lava.

I pick it like a scab.
Its ugly and itching,
Unwilling to heal without leaving its mark.

Its funny how the past teaches but leaves one tainted.
But funnier how you never have the things you need,
but have all the **** you want.

she became submissive to the burning of her throat , that left her on cloud 9
Inhaling the illegal substance to ease her mind of her imperfections and exhaling her biggest fears of morality
She started to lose her morals as time went on
The only thing that left her mouth was smoke that clouded her vision

Wanting to be accepted by everyone she lost her dignity in the big cup of liquor that she managed to down in one gulp  
Closing her eyes trying to block out the images of her old life
Fighting the urge to not drink anymore one more cup turned into three , three turned into six ,
Why her?
Adding more ruby red lipstick to her now numb lips to make sure her lips shine through the glossy vision of ***** shadows

she painted a picture of perfectionist in her mind as she applied ruby red lipstick amongst her lips and added a clear coat of lip gloss to seal the secrets
Using massacre to hide every tear drop that left her big brown eyes
As if she was going to war with herself
Her dignity
Her pride
Adding
Blush
Eye shadow
Lip stick
Massacre to seal the battle wounds
Was her daily dosage of forgiveness
Trying to forgive herself for allowing her secrets to smudge as she opened up something that was so pure
Her heart

Looking down at her body she started to feel insecure so she added more blush to her now covered face but she was a makeup artist
Adding more blush to hide the hand prints from the other night
Massacre to hide the tear drops that she managed to squeeze out when her submissive ways battered like a beaten woman that lived in the projects
Eye shadow , that covered the darkness around her eyes because she hasn't slept in days
And finally her favorite ...
Ruby red lipstick to make her stand out even when the lights were off
She wanted everyone to notice her but only covered enough so her imperfect life wouldn't smudge
I am a makeup artist ..

Trace figure eights along my body
and stop apologizing.
Lets find out
if the damage
can be undone.