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Honey Nov 2015
You let me love the way you looked at the sky, but you never once looked at me back. I spilled out my brains while you sat and stared in your stupid little chair and hummed a familiar tune. We’re all shapes and colors and numbers and codes. I tried to touch your hand, but all I heard was “Error.”
Honey Nov 2015
Tell me pretty words. Let them drop from your mouth with enticing elegance. Let them curl before your eyes like the smoke you’re always blowing out. Then kiss them into my mouth, and stain me with all the shades of black you’ve ever known.
Honey Nov 2015
Found myself singing the ballad of ****** dependency when I made a home in a stranger’s bed. It was much warmer and bigger than my own. I found myself singing it again when I only said “I love you,” when wrapped in sheets and once more when I whispered, “please don’t leave.” The words must have gotten lost in the wind because you never glanced back. And now I see that the things we use to heal start to **** us and maybe my words tend to get lost in the wind because they are merely hollow sounds, projections of my hopeful delusions. I wish someone would have looked into my eyes when I was sixteen and told me, "Little girl, bodies are not substitutes for love."
Inspired by the photography book The Ballad of ****** Dependency by Nan Goldin.
Honey May 2015
Once again i was fooled by an indecisive boy who had no intentions of ever loving me. I thought I could be that girl. We all wanted to be that girl. The one who changes them, ya know. The chick who wipes away the trails of blood streaming down his left cheek and puts a bandaid above his eye. The one who kisses his bruised forehead after he gets in a fight. But who are we to think that we can rescue people who don’t want to be saved? Too many of us want to drown. Some use knives and some use needles, but they all are addicted to the feeling of sinking. And I swear to God I would sail into the ocean for him in the midst of a hurricane, and he’d tell me that he’d rather swim to shore.
… … … … … … … . .
I cannot be your lifeboat, even if you’d let me.
Honey May 2015
I'm so in love with the idea of you, I’d let it devour me. I’d lock myself inside on sunny days to write up a billion worlds with you in it if I could. I am so in love with an idea. I do not wish my idea to be true, because then I’d crave a physical embodiment of perfection. I do not wish my idea to be false, for then I’d crave something that does not exist. Maybe I’ll stay in my mind, where nothing is real but I can’t tell the difference.
Honey May 2015
it is terrible the way i think of you so timelessly. it is so perilous to believe that humans are anything more than mortal, but you feel so much like god to me; and i’m not a believer. i cried to you for the first time, on some velvet morning. i told you i didn’t understand how your arms felt like the sky. that’s when you said to me, “This is only Earth, my love. This is only Earth.” i didn’t know what you meant, all i knew was that you felt more like home to me than anything ever had. i touched your lips for the first time that soft August evening some years back. your eyes were so alive, i swear you could stare at dead petals and they’d turn pink again, just for you. you told me stories without words about the places you’ve seen before you visited Earth. you never spoke it, but i know we knew each other forever ago. every secret ever kept lives in your sweet smile. your chuckle says you know things i haven’t found out yet, or maybe i just don’t remember. you told me my soul was so old, but i am still so young, so pure. you said i reminded you of a flower. maybe it was because when you looked at me i turned pink again, just for you.

the last time we saw each other he told me that he was leaving, he knew we couldn’t be together in this dimension. i asked him when i would see him again, but he didn’t say a word, he only smiled his warm smile as i stained his shirt with tears and “please stays.” When he left, it felt like i’d fallen out of heaven. for a while i buried my head in empty rooms, where faint whispers still echoed from wall to wall. i can see now that this farewell was almost bittersweet, but i could only feel bitter. i knew that i would never see him again in this particular life, but i finally understood what he meant when he told me, “This is only Earth, my love. This is only Earth.”
  Apr 2015 Honey
Dark n Beautiful
I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing
It must have the same effects as walking on the moon
It must trend faster than a meteor as it  hurdles through cyber space

I refused to love any man, who dislikes my poetry,
My man must support my passion ..
not only the warmth of my body
but the passion within this poetess, my secretive mind he must be able to balance:
Without wondering why a woman like me is so naturally secretive
I am always embracing the dark side of my creativity
Dropping little hints here and there throughout the years,

Sidney   J. Harris once said something that left pondering thoughts
He said “When he hears somebody sighs,
'Life is hard,' he’s always tempted to ask them, 'Compared to what?'
I would simply say dog-gone it: Compared to struggling poets whose tries to make a living as a writer

While an upcoming rapper like Chief Keef
signed a several-million dollar deal
with offending lyrics in today music industries:

I just want to write a poem no one ever thought of writing,
With lots of intense emotion bursting through each line:
Because a poem can’t exist without a poet's multiple voices
and most of all his divine missions
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