I can't speak.
Writing is the only way I can truly communicate.
I mess up my words, I say too much at one time.
The chaos that is forced out of my mouth never seems to come out right.
When my pen hits the paper, or my fingers hit the keys.
I am finally at peace.
The words pour out of me.
Maybe this is what it feels like to finally be free.
Even when I text, my words morph into a confusing mess, but when I write.
I finally won the war against myself.
Against my greatest fear.
Telling the world what I really want them to hear.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Stay humble in everything you do.
Appreciate the ones who love you.
The journey to success is never easy.
Never be to proud to show love for those who helped you get your feet off the ground.
They are the honest and brutal ones. They tell you how it is, and they don't sugar coat anything.
They let you know when you are starting to act like you're entitled to everything.
You aren't entitled to anything. You have to work for it.
Be thankful for them, and keep in mind that there is a strong difference between success and fame.
Get over your ego, and remember to always be grateful.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Art is meant to open your eyes not your pockets.
It's made for ones who view the world differently.
It reveals the beauty within ones' tragedy.
If you're in it for the money, you aren't in it at all.
If you're in it for the world you better be prepared to fall.
Art is for the healing heart, the lost little girl, the one whose falling apart.
Art is for the hopeful and the lost.
Art is for the ones who want to rip off their disguise.
Art is for the ones who are sick of their own lies.
Art is not for personal gain or ten minutes of fame.
If you're in it for the fantasy you'll be disappointed easily.
You either give it your all expecting nothing or don't start at all.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

To some homeless means you don't have a place to live.
To me it means you're searching.
You're looking for a hand to hold.
You're still crying over a lost soul.
You're running from solution to solution.
Except you aren't solving anything.
You're getting further and further away from yourself.
You continue to pry open closed doors to sit in the misery of the same results.
You never settle.
You don't have anything to call your own.
You're buried in the walls of your own house, searching for a place to call home.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

I wanted you to explore me.
I begged for your lips to caress the inside of my hips.
Your sighs became my drive.
As our bodies collided.
I lost track of who I was.
I found myself spilling into your hands.
You had the ugliest name and the most delicious smile.
I was aware of the lies you told me with your eyes.
At that very moment it did not matter.
I did not care.
I felt my myself disappear into the darkest depths of my own curiosity.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

The coffee stains under my eyes reveal the exhaustion in my mind.
The wrinkles in my sheets, left the scent of your intentions.
I can still feel your hands, I can still taste your lips.
**** you.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

I slept with the word worthless.
I danced freely in the shadows of lust.
I drank from the cup of greed.

I shot a bullet through the face of regret.
I kissed the surface of my own skin.
I began to feel beautiful again.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

I ran through the darkest forests.
I chased the lions of my tallest mountains.
I stood in the rain for years ignoring my own fear.
I fell to the ground more times than I can count.
I fought the demons of my deepest thought.
I shot a bullet through the hearts of those who told me "You can't."
I broke my own bones so I could heal.
I stabbed the doubt within my own chest.
I sacrificed my own sanity to save my own life.
I am armed with my own pride, my own courage and my own faith.
I broke down my own walls and opened up my own eyes.
I am a survivor and I am still fighting.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

To her, beauty was a soul's passion.
She fell in love with ones' words.
She believed the damaged were the beautiful, and the lost were the intelligent.
The mislead were the leaders and the misguided were the teachers.
She understood the broken and listened to the hopeful.
She lived for the endless possibilities and timeless fantasies.
A broken mind to her was a beautiful inspiration.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

You left her in the morning with unanswered questions and stolen innocence.
Her bed held the scent of their mistakes.
She can still feel the grip of your hands in her hair.
She can still taste the curiosity of your mouth on her cheek.
She regrets nothing.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

The wind guides her fragile feet, while the night sky brings to life her fantasies.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

"Let me run my fingers around the edges of your soul. Feel me burning like a solar flare.
I will make you ashes in the sand.
You will mourn in the morning, as we are nothing more than a loud night spread so evenly within the stars."
-Anonymous-

His language was one she was not familiar with.
The ecstasy of his words filled her glass.
She did not want the moon to pass and the sun to rise.
For she had become drunk on the idea of his thoughts, and addicted to his mind.
The stars aligned for him that night, his eyes opened her heart.
He helped her breathe.
He saw her true beauty.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Her lips spoke the language of his deepest thoughts and his wildest dreams
His words built her. Every stroke of his pen, every punctuation mark.
Every sentence written.
She fell for the way he looked at her when he perfected each word.
She desired the way his lips parted during mid thought.
The fire during each frustration drove her mad.
His flawless descriptions drew her in.
Her hands met his and their words collided.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

3 am we meet again.

This time I'm not screaming at the sky asking God why.

I'm painting a picture with the colors of the night, and embracing the most difficult part of this fight.

I am falling in love with myself again.

I feel beautiful.

My words make me feel like I am worth something.

I could spend days losing myself in the way my ink fills blank pages.

I comfortably lose my mind to the wonders of this world, I feel at peace, I feel complete.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

I miss honest conversation.

I miss the innocent flirtation between strangers.

I miss the feeling of ones dagger within the first kiss.

Knowing this heart may crush yours but you're too infatuated with their eyes to care.

I miss the feeling of ones laughter on my lips.

The way one gently would press their lips against my hips.

The ecstasy of falling for ones soul is a feeling that has become unfamiliar to my heart.

So I sit here , waiting for the honest conversation and the unforgettable infatuation.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

When my temptation is trying to rip me a part at my seams.

I stop to think is it really worth it?

To give it all away?  To someone who isn't even going to stay?

No, it's not.

Now, I tend to pick up a pen and paper, and let my frustration out in the words I scream into the empty lines of my journal.

It helps.
It takes my mind away to another place, far from the strangers face.

I am learning to save myself from my own mistakes.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Coffee shop walls know it all.

My secrets, wishes and obscure fantasies.

I write in the comfort of their arms. I know these walls can do no harm.

I feel protected.

I know I will not be judged.

I feel in an odd way loved.

In the public eye, People pass me by.

Some whisper, some stare.

There are times when I feel like an outsider within the shadows of this city.

These walls have become my home.

Something I can call my own.

My heart pours out freely onto the paper in front of me.

I am safe. I am free.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

She longs for a man who will hold her hand. Tell her she's beautiful and kiss her on the forehead.

She does her best not to search, because it makes her heart and her head hurt.

She just can't help but wonder, if there is anyone out there for her.

She's not perfect, but she is trying her best to become worth it.

She wants to love you for your mind, the way your mouth curls when you begin to say her name.

She wants to crawl into bed with your fear, your secrets, your desires, and your passion.

She's holding out for the one who will look into her eyes, instead of at her thighs.

She wishes beauty wasn't of the body, but instead the soul.

Maybe that's part of the reason this world is so cold.

She longs for attention and enjoys intimate conversation.

She's doing her best to wait for Mr.Right.

Maybe he doesn't exist, maybe it's really not worth the fight.

-Lily P. McLaughlin-

She's still the same girl.  Her smile has changed, but she's still the same. She still believes in chasing the sunrise and falling in love with the night sky.
She's still the same girl with big dreams.  
She's just a little more careful, she guards her heart.  
She has learned slowly to fall in love with the art of the wise and the forgotten.
She thinks the most beautiful stories from from the souls of the lost and the minds of the broken. She chooses to see the love and beauty within her fall. She has become a beautiful tragedy.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Nights like these I wish I had someone to lay with.
To kiss, hold, and just be myself with.
I will lose myself within his abyss.
I know one day I'll find him.
His mind will be wonderful and his thoughts will stop time.
I will become addicted to his eyes and the way he sighs.
His heart will be pure and collide with mine.
His imperfections will seem perfect to me
He will let his mind run free.
I'll fall for his laughter and the way he sleeps
I'll show him how everything he hates about himself makes him beautiful but most importantly unique.
I will wait for the man who will hold my hand and stay away from the boys who treat girls like toys.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-

Denial is fun, it keeps most of us away from the gun ,far from the ledge, and clear of the knife.
Denial kills us, it drains the soul once we realize we truly are not whole.
It lies to us in the ugliest way then expects us to stay when we realize the error of our ways. It fights the idea of morality and laughs at ones pain.
It's main goal is drive the heart of the lost insane.
-Lily P. McLaughlin-