He'a a tornado. He's enchanting to watch, he leaves me dizzy for days, but he blows me away whenever I try to get close.
And he's a hurricane. His impact is powerful, it warns that I hide. But I drown in his eyes whenever I try to speak.

Us together feels natural.

*Us together is a disaster.

I've learned to love, at least, three things
God, myself, and my kin.
But I have grown to love so much more
To laugh, to learn, to sin.
I laugh with my friends
I learn from the best
I sin by mistake
And I love all the rest.
I laugh at my struggles
I learn from them too
I sin for myself
But my love is for you.

She makes the sand,
the sand seep away.
Little locket on her chest,
with her steps a gentle sway.
Though her eyes cast
a tender gaze,
her fiery heart sets the sky ablaze.

Dry rain and dry puddles,
never will she stop.
'Til she stumbles to her knees,
the dusty ground, fiercely hot.
She cries out in pain
and laughs through tears,
a withered smile
of withered years.

She sees me.

Her faces relaxes,
her lungs give out,
her limbs betray her
and with one final strain she says:
*I can't hate.

the air hangs heavy
of dignity in spaces meant
to house a golden king.

despondent, alone,
i am the silent sunken stone
of understanding pebbles
bathed in shallowater sighs
of quiet far-off longing.

all one; air
rushes in and fills my wings-
i fly and breath the sky.

a sun of your heart
warms me through the cracks
of injured earth
centuries apart from day,

i rise and smell
the song of your smile.

It's a shame.
I pity you.
I feel bad that you think you must do that.
So go on,
**** in your cheeks and show off the dimples you don't have. Stick your chest out, hide the chalkboard that is really there. And let every boy in town write on it.
As you seek the attention that you thrive on,
We'll be watching,
Waiting.

Maybe it's for real,
But we know its a joke.
But they're cute together.

And I don't mind.

So we'll sit.
Watch the 'love,'
Watch the cars,
As they quickly drive by.

The reason I don't wear makeup
Is that I don't want there to be
Anything on my face
That distracts you from Me.
And no, I don't look pretty
Buried beneath the layer
Of foundation and gloss.
Because then, I'm barely there.
Only when unadulterated, untouched,
Does my skin look perfect,
Adorned with the best rouge there is-
Which is, my Self.