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 Feb 2015 ghost girl
September
1.
Firsts can never change,
But they can most certainly
Oh, be forgotten.

2.
Do not say my name.
Say my name again—say hers.
This time: I dare you.

3.
When I stripped you of
Your faith, I had asked you if
God was still watching.

4.
Perhaps flirtation—
Music taste, or lucky liquor.
Perhaps loneliness.

5.
Never spoke a word,
Until substance set us free
Upon each other.

6.
We were nothing more
Than slutty dancing, slurred words,
And a messy bed.

7.
Sleep—an illusion.
I start to wonder if you,
Love, were one as well.

8.
I was more to you
In one night—than you were to
Me in seven years

9.
Little golden boy:
How can you hate the whole world
Yet say you love me?

10.
I was sick, alone.
You were not special—just there.
Still sick. Still alone.

11.
I stole from God again.
You were young, and I— Oh, I
Just want to stargaze

12.
Smoke green under green—
sweat under sheets—broken bones—
Blood on hardwood floors.

13.
Hands can hold tightly.
Skin can connect easily.
Words can lie sweetly.

14.
You have green eyes, and—
soft hands, and— loving skin, and—
Nothing I deserve

15.
Let's talk about ***.
Let's talk about love. Let's talk
*About the sadness
I regret nothing of my life.
Written about fifteen people who I'm told are supposed to mean something to me.
 Feb 2015 ghost girl
Syzygy
You are
The reason I cry
The reason I laugh
The reason I smile
The reason I frown.

You are
The reason
I feel this dread
And this utter happiness.

You are the reason
My heart beats
Just a little faster
And the reason
It stops.

And for many other reasons unknown but you,
You
Are the reason I love.
I felt in an oddly romantic mood for some reason.... oh well.~
 Jan 2015 ghost girl
Moon Humor
The lust we share on cold midnights, lucid
and gentle but so passionate and rough
can keep me hypnotized. Translucent blue
eyes shine like moonstone, glinting bright with love
hidden from sight. I want to call you mine
but I know better than to pine over
a man up way too high, stuck on cloud nine
not planning to come down or to get sober.
I’ll let myself get lost a little while
in the forest of curls behind your ears.
I’ll wander your body concealing smiles
that give away feelings that interfere
with the promise to love myself before
someone else. I am who I’m living for.
A sonnet written in iambic pentameter complete with rhyme scheme.
 Dec 2014 ghost girl
September
but given the change in time
and the frequency of which
you came back into my life
so often
doesn't change the fact that
it ******* hertz
 Dec 2014 ghost girl
ok
spread me open and lay me out on your table like a blueprint (I'm just as hard to read)
nail me on the wall like a laminated world map (put pins on all the places you've been)
oil me up like your old, squeaky boxspring mattress (you remember the one)
give me life like the cpr dummy in middle school health class (mouth to mouth, get it?)
tell everyone how beautiful I look like a dead body in an open casket (we all know what you really mean)
wreck me like the abandoned house behind the railroad tracks (what a shame, it has so much historical value)
wrap me up like a reopened wound (oops, my bad)
bite me like the hangnails you get from chewing your fingers (it's a nervous habit)
drill my pieces together like ikea furniture (you might just have to wing it, I lost the instructions a long ******* time ago)
 Dec 2014 ghost girl
ok
I'm sorry that my poetry has become a tangled mess of love letters (and the regular letters), I'm just searching for an outlet -
literally, because an electric shock might be the best explanation, and
figuratively, for obvious reasons -
as a way to explain my inconsistencies and fault lines
when all I want to do is love you the best.

I've never been the best at anything, though, only an in-between.

Then again, I never actually gave a **** until you rolled around like the smoothest stone I've ever seen.
I, however, am covered in algae,
but I'm okay with that,
since you said the way moss feels between your fingers is the sole reason touch is your favorite of the senses.
 Dec 2014 ghost girl
September
Forgive me Father
for I have sinned
but oh God,
did I feel like a saint—
(when I unzipped his jeans
like locked church doors)
(when I read the marks on his skin
like words from the bible)
(when I got on my knees
and swallowed salvation)
I like them young and religious
Poem from past times that I kinda wish I could go back to
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