Your hands are soft,
They grip firmly on my hips and
your eyes are fixated on my...
My everything
You move boundlessly and complete me effortlessly...
your groans give me certainty that your satisfaction is profound
And in my last gasp for air before I relinquish all the power from my body,
My nails dig into your back and my legs curl around your waist for support.
We are one.

The closest thing to
heaven I've known was between
her hips and her thighs

5:50 PM
16/5/20

Your breath
was as warm as fire,
your kisses raw and relentless.
Your tongue went wild inside his mouth
as if its life had depended on the taste.
We had caved into each other-
a hunger we could not satisfy.
And while I searched
for ways to justify our sins,
you were already exploring all the places
upon me that had gone untouched
for far too long.

You have made a galaxy
within me the way you paint
stars upon this soul.
I explore this galaxy of us,
forever in awe of the
wonders and mysteries
you left within my heart.

Driving 90 miles down the highway at 3am on a Tuesday
Night
Hair flying in the backseat radio blasting at 30
the future is bleak
And the past is dreary
18 years old almost on the edge of 19
Emotions seem unbearable and other times weak
Nothing is ever alright I just sit in my room
and imagine myself grown over night
I cant pretend the future isn’t scary id be lying if I said that
I act a 1000 years my age no one understands that
I don’t know my purpose The search might take my lifetime
What happens when the lights go out ?  Am I in heaven ? Am I alright ?
To say I have worries is way over my head, anxiety creeps in while I’m laying in bed
Is it wrong to think I’m meant for more than this life ?
Think positive think positive I’m trying cant you see !
The more I think positive the more unfortunate I believe

"write a poem,"

Sylvia Plath commanded summer before last.
Her voice in all places I looked.
Avoided and silenced letters
Crawled in front of my mind and knocked on my skull:
A polite entry into their society with a family,
Other words in Gregorian chant:
You cannot undo insanity in the third decade.

I tell the others, the eyes around me, that these words
Feel like birth announced just now,
With no time to prepare or plan, to nest and caress
The down feathery face, or kiss his tiny mouth.

A poem emerges with a scream,
Bony hands encircling my throat and pushing
Into formation. The existence of new words--
Always the ones in the language before,
Though in this birth the roots twist under the tree.