for the first time
since i was 11
i look in the mirror
and i actually like whats staring back at me

i don't know why it took so long to regain
the feeling of self love
and being content with less makeup
or none
in the mirror

i wish i know what could have happened
when i started looking at my little 11 year old body
and thought i was overweight

Oh my god i'm 75 pounds?! i remember thinking

I could blame my mom
or the boys who paraded naked pictures of me
criticizing my changing body in its early stages

i was made fun of for having supple *******
the first girl in my 4th grade class to wear a padded bra

i hated it
every second of my changing body

i started to get curves
and was known for having a "big ****"

and this "best friend" of mine told me she was glad she didn't have one

a boyfriend shot me down
"you can't leave me because no one will want you"

mother and step dad made fat jokes when i was 14
because i'm not obsessive compulsive with my diet

now i look in the mirror and i'm so happy
i love every curve from my arms to my ankles

and my dark brown eyes stare deep into you don't they?
grandma wasn't kidding when she said people would pay
THOUSANDS!! for these lips
and this square jawline has it's perks

i used to get paranoid when people stared at me
until i caught someone
and they told me i was beautiful

breathe.
because you know what you
do when someone ***** you
over? you calmly take your
heart out of their hands
and leave. you think maybe
you'll sew it back on to
your sleeve but not now, not
today. you put their things
in a box (their cds, their
shirts, their books, their
notes, the little things you
picked up on your dates)
and you put it on the
highest shelf in your
closet, because someday
you will want to remember
them, maybe. if you don't
want to remember them, you
give them the box, you
donate the box, you throw
the box in the river. and
you breathe. because you
deserve better. you deserve
someone who doesn't consider
you a fallback, a plan b.
you will be someone's plan.
you will be the only plan.
you will be my-god-what-
was-i-doing-before-you-
walked-around-that-
corner. remember that
you are enough.
breathe.

Blue eyes** serpent. The devil dressed in sinister clothing. Carve my heart, and it was bleeding in his hand. Lust swirled over head, passion laced on a sinful seduction.
A voice of reason, lost in his twisted words of appeal. I wanted his painful kiss, with my tongue scraping a razor blade deal.
His abuse is all knowing but only in the way of  his desire.

Blue eyes demon; how I let you use me. Twisted and scorned by a hand of Hell; till there was nothing left but a wayward vessel. All of the memory's of our sweet serenity, gone and filled with angsty longevity .
How do I continue forth?
Walking this path of broken and cracked pavement.
I died a thousand times, watching you at the other end of the knife. If only you could see the blood on your hands.
I wanted to heal you. I wanted to feel you. I wanted to be closer to the time when you could finally see me.

Blue eyes, it's time for goodbye. You may still hold my beating heart, but alas I'm the one living and moving on.

How tectonics shift
As continents drift apart,
Oceans open up.

Now you, undeterred
Ascend the promontory,
Cross the esplanade.

Poised with honours,
You sidle the cliff edge path
Predator to prey.

Await your moment.
Swoop, gliding on the uplift,
Behind you a trail.

My mirth, invested in you
This day escapes me.

Drinking summer skin,
I hear the voices in the night sky
I'm a slave to the darkness around the stars,
and I can't remember why

One, two, twenty-three percocet in my soul.
Ambulance lights breathing throughout the mist.
Pump my stomach like the sawed-off shotgun
that I was too afraid to use,
because what if I 'miss'?
What spectrum of desolation to be traced with lips;
to kiss away the desire to exist.

Mirrored reflection injection causes the resurrection of my imperfection.
I see me for who I am, who I was, and who I won't be.
It's the collection of
my eyes dilating and my knees speculating their arrival
to the blue and white tiling disguised as neo-survival.
My mind is evaporating. My body begins to convulse.
I am a ghost in a machine. I am without a pulse

Iris peels back
three generous petals,
ample in exposure,
a gravitationally drawn
dress, *******,
with drops and folds, a downward-
opening, bares elegant anatomy,
stripped from the waist
of a lighter three petals, lifting,
inside, reflective,
reaching skywards, and naked
ribbed with natural frill,
raw with the colours of flower flesh
white tiger stripes
and purple veins,
curling towards the ground like tears
and lifting up like laughter,
with centered yellow streaks
that lead into the heart,
where another tri-petal formation
folds in on itself,
as if to contain some sacred secret
that is gently holding at her *****

    a trinity
    within a trinity
    within a trinity
    of beauty

her naked convolutions coil into
just the right amount of earthly space,
so perfectly held there in the air
with poised and dancing stillness,
the perfect allure
of a delicate goddess,
rooted in the ground
but living also
inside the I,
elevated by the gaze
into limitless imaginal expanse,
no mere flower, in relation
      
                she is
                an entrance
                into love