Blue meet grey
In the brief flash
Of a mutual gaze
Before eyes fall back
To the littered ground
Hands clasped tight
Toes are twitching
Man and girl
Sitting in careful, practiced non-existence.

She's the girl with the cherry red lipstick,
the full ******* and rounded hips.
They call her sweet ******;
pretty little ******.

You'll know when you see her.
She'll answer you with, yes sir.
But don't look into those lovely eyes;
they will hypnotize; entice.

And her tongue is sugar coated
with sly and tempting lies.
They draw you near and nearer
every time she licks her lips.

She captures the young men's hearts,
with her seductive youth.
She feeds on their lustful stares;
their male hormones, testosterones.

Their jealous girlfriends
give her the strength
to make it through the days;
to ignore the painful shame.

But every lonely night she cries
herself to sleep,
and prays to the heavens
to retrieve her innocence.

They call her sweet ******,
pretty little ******.
But I know her well as Sorrowful,
and pretty with a grieving heart.

****** … oh, ******.
a precocious young child.
fourteen years of age, regularly chasing field boys.
plaid skirt waving; red braids swinging.
not a care in the world.
up until his arrival, you’ve been … in your own world, minding nothing.
he caught your attention, as you caught his.
it was a sin.
yet a sin worth doing.
thirty years of a crack in between.
neither parties cared.
the only thing that mattered?
your living, breathing curiosity;
and thus, your liking for him.

she glossed her lips
to prove to him
that she was worth it

- seduction

they call me a nymphet
my narrow hips budding *******
my glowing skin rosebud lips
in the sun where i rest...
older women are fat and cold
with porous skin and dyed hair
they haven't their blades like gold
salient and bare
they haven't their thighs like ivory
of thin ivory are mine
i'm british and brattish
they're just fine
they call me a nymphet
with my schoolbag hanging
from my frail shoulder
decadent and delicate
please just for a while
not a nymphet
but a hurting child

As the rain drops fall from the sky
My tears fall from my eyes
They whisper to me the stories I cannot forget
About the love once we shared
They can wash away my tears
But they can't wash away my pain
Sometimes I wish they could burn like acids
And erase every trace of you from me
Sometimes I wish they were freezing like snow
That could freeze my broken heart
I wish they could heal these invisible wounds on me
Wash you from my memory
But all they can do is remind me of you
Remind me of my feelings I wish you knew
-Aarushi

sweet cherries
pretty fairies
things that are good

torrential downpour
what am i here for?
things that are bad

beauty and kindness
down to earth soul
things that are you

love and sparks
both of our hearts
things that we have

you
us two
things that i have

me
we
things that you have

eachother
one another
things that we have