is it love?
is it lust?
when you want a guy
biting on your neck
and kissing every inch
of your bare skin
getting chills
down your spine
as he goes further down
intoxicating you with desire
going lower
as it
takes
you
higher
as the moment
makes an impact
on passion's
radar?

It’s ok if the laundry pile is now, a little mountain on the floor,

And it’s totally fine if crayons have created a Monet on the front door.

It’s super cool if the car smells of long forgotten meals,

And sometimes, a missing child can only be located through high-pitched squeals!

It’s ok to have lampshade hair when you drop your child off to school

And don’t worry if folks think, your legs are not shaved enough for the pool.

So what if the little black dress is a stitch too tight,

And those oh-so-white lace napkins are a strange creamy delight.

Ice cream on the counter top or coins in the sink,

The child is only “learning”, say it to yourself with a wink.

If tattoos are the only thing you see when the first “date” comes home,

Breathe a little deeper, and then go rent some chick flick about Rome.

So sit back, relax, celebrate yourself, and know perfection is a thing of the past,

Being yourself and a “fabulously ordinary” mom is what will truly outlast!

She asked if she could give me a hug
And I said sure, go ahead
She told me that if I needed anyone to talk to, she would be there
As if I would bother listening to her instead
You see, I don’t talk to anyone but the voices inside my head
And it’s not because I’m psychopathic
It’s just that I’ve heard it all
And these superficial sayings are as good as broken elastic
And don’t call me over-dramatic
Because I’m pretty sure saying I’m tired is an understatement
For wanting to bash my head against the pavement
‘Til my skull rips and bleeds and lets the parasite crawl out
The one that’s been infecting my brain, driving me insane
They say that if the urge to **** yourself rises, resist them
But something’s been ******* the soul out of my system
Drinking the juices of happiness and spitting it back as the cider of sadness
And I don’t think you could understand the madness
That comes with not being heard
When I let my story slip and people just gloss it over
But I don’t remember my lips as shiny and shimmery
I think they’re more chapped and bleeding
From biting my tongue and saying you didn’t understand me
It’s not just a phase that comes with age
It doesn’t mean that the next time I smile indicates I’m okay
My problems aren’t corpses that can easily decay
These skeletons are living, breathing, in need of healing
But you give me band-aids for my broken bones instead of surgery
Like I’m some little kid who was just in a hurry and fell
If that’s the case I must have slipped up to thinking you could lend me a hand
I must have tripped out of my mind to hoping you could help me stand
So sure, go ahead and give me a long hug
If that makes you feel any better
Just don’t give me your sympathy
Because all you are is a fork in my wall plug.