Kissed by God she a child of love, untainted by ways of man.
In the world of the dying, she spreads her love, replenishing broken hearts.

In her alluring eyes, you can gaze at the universe as it unfolds.
With a ballet of stars along the milky-way.
Singing life's song as the mystery fades
Joined by those who sleep in hope
Revived as they come to know.
life is love

Through the naked crest of your back
The dips above your clavicles
And the way I lunge at your jaw.

Through pale hands and swollen lips
And heavy eyes

It echoes

Resonates through thin air
And seeps into the cracks of the walls
The way it collides with your skin
And buries through the flesh

That moment, awakening, I got through
You know now how much I love you

Anguish a and dread come into my system.  I can't breathe, my lungs are deprived of oxygen. I feel his hand slightly stretching and feeling my tight, and I resist the urge to scream and slap him hard across his face. I stay still, pretending I don't notice his finger tips touching well-known places once again. I cringe and his eyes find mine. He smiles wickedly and the lump in my throat tightens . His hand slips away from my upper leg and he takes it to his face in a smooth movement. He winks at me and I almost loose it, but I stay calm, trying not to let my disgust show. Poker faced, I stare at him, a loop-sided grin still playing in his lips. His fore finger touches that revolting mouth of his.

"Shhhhhhh."

We are at work, and anybody could hear me if I shouted for help. But his oh-so-charming personality would make me look like a lunatic. Everyone loved him, and he loved everyone. He loved women in general a bit more than he should. Specially the pretty ones. He cherished them a bit too much. His enchanting face and easy talk made him get away from every awkward situation. And I wasn't going to be an exception.
He seemed to know where my thoughts were heading, because a look of superiority took over his fake, innocent expression.
He stood up and unzipped his low-hanging jeans, pulling his ******* free. I shuddered and instinctively took a step back, hitting the concrete wall behind me. I was trapped between him and the office's structure. I swallowed and looked straight into his eyes. He was definitely enjoying this. He stepped forward, getting me up against the wall. I desperately tried to find a way out of what was going to happen, but I couldn't find one. I closed my eyes as I felt his entire length easing through mi insides. He was smirking now. Minutes seemed to be hours. They were large and tortuous. I was numb. Every stroke was deeper and faster. His muffled moans were all I heard. I kept my eyelids shut tightly the hole time. He finally stiffened and let out a fairly loud sound of pleasure.   I cried softly as he stepped away from me and put his pants back on. He smiled one more time and left me there, feeling weak, shattered and covered in dirt that wouldn't come out of me, no matter how hard I scrubbed myself.

The pitch black midnight sky
stares back at me.
Beyond the bright stars
There are things we cannot see
Secrets that the universe hid.

When it all turns into dust
I'll remember the way the sky made me feel.
Fearless and strong
Infinite and free.

Dark deep eyes are all I see.
I want them to absorbe me
I want them to bring me in.
Peace and quiet, stillness and fallen strings.

I will no longer be in this nightmare
Liberation is all I seek.
And when the night falls on me
There will be silence, there will be sleep.

I'll fly and bring you with me.
Stardust outlining our slim figures.
Cause all I want is your light to be brighter
The moon will drown in jealousy.

*Who needs to live forever if you don't belong to me.

I eat. I love eating. I have no problem with it, and I really enjoy the explosion of different flavors in my mouth. It's an interesting experience and I truly like all kinds of dishes.
The problem starts when the very last mouthful is gone. That's when the guilt comes into scene. I suddenly feel horribly for eating so much and start to get dizzy. And that's only the tip of the iceberg.
This whole matter goes back to primary school. I was a lot fatter than I am nowadays but I still cringe every time someone calls anybody else fat. I was bullied. I was that one fat, nerdy girl with glasses, braces and two-size-bigger clothes. I was full of joy till fourth grade. I was a little girl becoming a pre-teen, and I wanted boys to think I was pretty. I started to notice those stares and glances that the boys in my class shot me. They were not checking-you-out looks. They were laughing at me. So I started feeling bad about myself. I had to get nice clothes. If that's what it took to be accepted, I was gonna spend every cent of my savings in clothes shops. Of course, I had never cared about fashion before, and when I went shopping for the first time I was really disappointed. I would find a really nice shirt and immediately fall in love with it. I would see it on a mannequin and it would look stunning. And then, excited, I would go and try it on. Imagine the look on my face when I saw how the shirt fit me. It didn't look the same on me than it did on the other girls. I was horrified. I then realized that it was gonna take a lot more than a shopping therapy to be liked. I started obsessing over calories. I didn't eat half as much as I had been eating before. I practically  starved myself to death every day, and I kept track of all of it in a tiny notebook I took everywhere. I couldn't bring myself to enjoy eating because it was too painful. Everyday I watched as my friends took pizza for lunch as I chewed my lettuce. All the cruel things the boys told me hurt me even more than anything. My mom worried about me and she said I was perfect. Of course I was, in her eyes. But I wasn't happy with my body. I did a long diet that lasted for three long years. In seventh grade I started to eat a bit more and that's when I hit puberty. I grew taller and slimmer, and my body curved-up.
I was still uncomfortable with myself. Boys started noticing me, and I was happy about it, bit I wanted more. I started to work out and until now, three years later and in high school, I'm still not able to like my physical form. I've lost a lot of weigh, but my mental image is similar to that ten-year-old  girl that discovered that nobody liked her because she was fat.
I look in the mirror and see nothing but imperfections. I put on make-up and fancy clothing only to find that the real problem is **inside my head.