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I should have to peel you off of me, but instead i'm trying to hold on to the remains of you.
Every last piece of you.
All of you.
I want your fingers running down my spine, your hands holding me, you loving me.
But your mind is somewhere else, your hear is with someone else.
Does she love you? Better than i could.
Does she make you feel good? Better than i could.
Because i adored you, all of you.
She has to peel you off of her, i have to hold on to the remains of you.
Every last piece of you.
All of you.
And i cannot let go of you, because if i don't i will never get you back.
I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing
It must have the same effects as walking on the moon
It must trend faster than a meteor as it  hurdles through cyber space

I refused to love any man, who dislikes my poetry,
My man must support my passion ..
not only the warmth of my body
but the passion within this poetess, my secretive mind he must be able to balance:
Without wondering why a woman like me is so naturally secretive
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity
Dropping little hints here and there throughout the years,

Sidney   J. Harris once said something that left pondering thoughts
He said “When he hears somebody sighs,
'Life is hard,' he’s always tempted to ask them, 'Compared to what?'
I would simply say dog-gone it: Compared to struggling poets whose tries to make a living as a writer

While an upcoming rapper like Chief Keef
signed a several-million dollar deal
with offending lyrics in today music industries:

I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing,
With lots of intense emotion bursting through each line:
Because a poem can’t exist without a poet's multiple voices
and most of all his divine missions
Wisconsin, fine--
We sit on state lines.
Across the street, Rodeo Drive.
Move a little bit
and East L.A. makes you feel alive.

Go to the diner
where the mermaids wear aprons
and hold out menus like personal stock.
Where the surfer-rama drama in the diner deep
allows them to let go of those they keep.

And you and me and those we love,
keep us finite, because why not.
I could tell you how to eat your waffles
if you will be the spoon that stirs my coffee.

Listen to me,
"Rachel, there's no one, right now,
that I'd rather sit and eat breakfast with than you.
And if it doesn't work out,
and we choke on our meals, that's fine.
I just want to try when I'm with you."

We exchange glances
and I'm sure, then,
that I adore the aplomb,
for your smile leads myself
into believing and being more.
She looked at me and said,
"You should **** me
before you love me."
And so I did.

Her hands covered her *******
and she said,
"I want you to guess which breast
my father touched first."
And so I did.

The bones in her hands shifted
as she fixed her hair into a ponytail.
"You're going to promise me that
you're not going to try to fix me.
You're going to promise me, okay?"
And so I did.

Her lips would start bleeding
because when she lied
she chewed her lips.
She said, "I think today
will be the last day I live."
And I asked her for one more.

Dry blood sat on her inner lips
as she kissed me good morning.
Her voice softly cooed,
"I hope that isn't the last time
I kiss you."
And I asked her for one more.

She bled,
"All you write about are girls.
You never write about me.
All you write about are faces
without souls. What about my soul?
Are you going to
******* write about my soul?
Are you going to write another poem?"
And I asked her for one more.

Looking at me,
she ran her fingers
down her hips,
across scars,
and said,
"Too many men look at me
and see what they want to.
They look at me and see
broken picture frames
that they can repair
and put our faces into."

Our hands met
and our fingers grasped
at the pieces of ourselves
that were deeper than faces.
But it was only me
as she whispered,
licked my cheek
to my ear,
"Don't fall in love
with what you
think you see.
Just **** me."

And so I did.
And so I asked her for one more.
Loneliness is a taste of death
Here I am, dying,
without arms to expire in.
The house is silent, as I drift to sleep,
not eternally,
 Jan 2015 Kiernan Norman
paige v
covered by thorns and hidden by vines
but you’re still attracted to the light
that reflects from my broken sides
you want to swim alone tonight
but I know you’d let me hold you down
Velvet rose petals and shattered glass don't mix but still you’ll love me anyway
despite the scars I've left on you
you’d lay with me
on dead grass
and let me point out your fading colors
you’ll excuse my relentless attempts
to bury you under ground.
“you're destructive
and reflective,
I see myself in you”
As my ridges rip you to shreds you stay with me,
a ****** mess and a lonely swimmer,
another garden destroyed
with wasted raindrop tears
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