You can taste the words that leave her lips
and feel her eyes as they light up your face.
She dances around the back of your mind for so long that her toes begin to bleed and like music, she takes you away.

sometimes
in order to breathe
i smother my lungs
with funny things
then exhale you
with a sigh of relief
just to wake up
the very next night
suffocating again
amidst the fight

5/16
time is perspective
Going through years of tangible memories
I realize I took for granted how creative my younger mind was
before the world had made any impact on my spirit
and I rested in an untouched place
a sanctuary of ideas that could easily manifest themselves into reality because anything was possible
a rich land of colors and frequencies I can no longer see or hear
time has enabled me to see just how bursting my mind was
and just how boxed it is now
I thought then as I do now
that my capabilities of creating are limited by the invisible boundaries I have yet to learn how to break
the only difference is, my creations I see from the past are crazy
my mind has traversed and ventured through many different landscapes since then
but all of our landscapes are recorded
I can still find that sanctuary from years ago
where the river of colors flows
I can't completely journey back to the land itself
but I can remember it and find a space for a river here
a river is never consistent nor steady throughout
creativity comes and goes whether it be days or years
but once it is in you it never leaves
the colors stay stained in your skin
no matter how many downpours wash you bare
or how many droughts scorch your skin dry

It's not till you're deprived that you can really love something
Anyone who has gone to a foreign speaking country can understand this
the words being spoken are stripped of all meaning to you
Then you go home and there's no more translating or confusion
You understand  
When you touch me I understand
I sense every subtle advance and fight to deny subjectiveness
But your language is too convincing, too poetic and I melt under your finger tips
they trace the trails of my silent desires in pursuit of the never ceasing void
The black hole that never stops consuming because there can never be enough
Fill me with pages and pages more than a million libraries
If not you, then perhaps the next
This is my language and you speak it so well
Then one day I'm stranded
Tens of thousands of years it seems on a desert island where the islanders don't speak the same language as I do
But one day I'm rescued and able to speak to the rescuer
It clicks back so easily and there is a deep appreciation for dialogue after being deprived
Now talk me to sleep as your hands roll across my back like the tide
Tell me what I Need to get me by before I'm stranded once more

Oh honey, you were nothing more to him than a late night hookup & an attention giver. He didn't care that he hurt you & made you cry.
Oh darling, you need to be stronger than this, you're nothing more to him than a pretty face with a nice ***. He doesn't care that you think about him nonstop.
Oh baby, you need to wake up, he's still in love with her & you are just a bump in the road. He doesn't love you.