She's delectable
Her every word titillating
Her every touch ******
Lips meant for biting
Her voice meant to moan
Her body's meant for me
Her ******* meant for my teeth lips and tongue
Her *** filling my palms *** its pulled ,grabbed, spread an spanked
Her ******* waiting for my every touch an pull grab kiss and bite
Hips call to my teeth to be bitten,screaming for my hands for more grab them pull them
Legs begging to be kissed nibbled and caressed
Her shoulders and neck meant for my lips my hands my teeth
More I crave them all, the the taste calls to me screaming my name
Her ****** calls to me echoing in my mind forever to trigger my cravings driving me crazier ever time I see her
She's my fetish my craving my desire
My lustrous dream of craving.

i wanted to be okay with everything.
i wanted to be okay with the fact that i outgrew you and how even though i bring myself to tears thinking about Us,
this was for the best.
i want to be okay with the morning sun and the rain,
i wanted to apologize all the times i spent looking at you with tears in my eyes or crying and yelling at you,
for you're here when no one else is
i should love you for that but can't yet.
i've hit rockbottom over and over again,
the fall is starting to hurt less.
i've shook hands with who i used to be,
letting them take over me so many times to the point where if i want to be in control i don't know how.
i don't know who i truly i am and that scares me.
the music made my ears ring and i wanted to disappear again.
i feel like i could fly away at any moment
and now,
i'm not scared if i do.
i swallowed the lump in my throat, hoping to get something out of it.
maybe i would be able to stand back up.
i can't.

There's more to suicide than what we think it is.
It's not just unanswered questions,
sometimes, it's unasked ones.

Take her body, squander her soul.
**** her mind, remove her control.
Take her eyes, so she cannot see.
Take her voice so she cannot speak.
Burn what little hope she has.
Take her peace, they'll remember her as: crazy, chaotic, ******, pyschotic, foreign, and mystic...
Despite how she fought it.

Corrupt her memories, pervert her art.
Take all she has left, and rip it apart.

When she's gone, tell the world how you loved her, but not how you hated, berated and destroyed her.

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come

I found God
I found him in a lover
With his warm arms when he hugs me
And those sweet words that come out of his mouth
When I spend time with him
Specially when we are alone
Together  
Side by side
I feel like home
And he transmits me peace

I like tall boys
With huge hands
Large fingers
With rings on it
Marked veins  
Hands choking my neck
Calling me “baby girl”
With the thumb touching my lower lip
His nose touching mine
His lips next to mine
And lustful eyes

i like to say “****” in my poems
i guess i think it makes me sound serious
like this time i really mean it
honestly?
i’m just looking for a way to say
that i’m tired
but i’m still so, so ready to keep living.